


Brandon & Marianne fanfic re-formatted for Disability Reader

by Osidrap



Category: Sense and Sensibility - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 03:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 80,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15810072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Osidrap/pseuds/Osidrap
Summary: Not my work. I'm trying to reformat some of our favorite stories from AO3 and Fanfiction so they will read out loud on the disability accessible software, without stopping or making errors. These are several S&S fanfics for Marianne and Brandon. This is a work in progress, so don't read it yet. I just had to post to prevent the draft from being deleted.





	Brandon & Marianne fanfic re-formatted for Disability Reader

Accessible Formatting Project - in progress

Sense and Fascination  
By DC_Fitzpatrick  
Desire and Sensibility  
DC_Fitzpatrick

Chapter 1: After the Fever  
Colonel Brandon sat in his armchair, in front of the fire. His waistcoat was unbuttoned, his cufflinks undone, his sleeves pulled up to his elbows. He opened a book in an attempt to read, for he could not sleep, but it was useless. The book was left on his lap, his hands to his temples.  
It had been a week since he left the Dashwoods at Barton Cottage. After Miss Mary-anne first opened her eyes, a few days' wait was needed until she was strong enough to be moved, in order for them to quit Cleveland. On the first day, Miss Dashwood came into the parlor to call him.

“Colonel, Mary-anne wishes to see you.”

“Pardon?” He must have misunderstood, he thought.

“Mary-anne wishes to see you. She still is very tired and needs her rest, but is very adamant about seeing you. I believe she wishes to thank you properly.”

He got up stiffly, though his heart swelled at the thought of her wishing to speak to him, and followed Miss Dashwood to Mary-anne's room.

She was sitting up, a mountain of pillows behind her, but she looked very tired and pale. The spark in her eyes that was so endearing to the Colonel was not there. Still, the sight of her made his heart thud harder in his chest.

Elinor ran out to fetch more water for the basin in the room, and the Colonel and Mary-anne were left alone.

“Colonel Brandon, I'd like to thank you for going out to find me in the rain. If it weren't for you, I might... I might be dead.” His heart went cold for a moment at the thought of such a horrible possibility. “I also would like to thank you for bringing Mama. You are such a good friend. More than I deserve.”

“It was no trouble, Miss Mary-anne. I am just glad to be of service. And I am glad you are on your way to recovery.” He stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, with his hands behind his back, as if restraining himself, for what he really wished to do was to hold her, love her back to health. As there was an awkward silence, he started: “I should take my leave then, let you rest.”

“Colonel… could you do me one more favor? If it's not too much to ask.” She could not let him leave like that. She felt horrible about all the rudeness she had displayed towards him in the past, and nonetheless he was so kind to her, even if she was so undeserving. She wanted to be able to be friendlier.

“Anything, Miss Mary-anne.”

“Could... could you read to me? A bit. I am... my eyes, they get tired and I cannot read myself yet, but I am very tired of sitting here, having nothing to do.” She picked up a book on the bedside table with some difficulty, and made an effort to stretch out her arm and hand it to him, but he met her halfway.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said, taking the book from her hand. He pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. As he opened the book, a pocket book, he noticed it had belonged to Willoughby. She still carried it. Of course. Despite his heart breaking in yet another piece, if that was still possible, he held his composure. His armor, which he built over the years and now so easily carried. Falling in love with her opened a path to tearing it down, but as he saw it was no use, he carried it still. His pain remained on the inside, unshown. “Miss Mary-anne, do you have a specific sonnet you wish me to read? Perhaps… a favorite?”

“I seek to find a new favorite, Colonel. You can read whichever one you choose. Perhaps one of your favorites” she said, eyes half closed.

Colonel Brandon flipped through the pages. After some thought, he opened to sonnet 47.  
Betwix mine eye and heart a league is took,  
And each doth good turns now unto the other:  
When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,  
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,

 

His voice was sweet as chocolate, smooth as velvet. She, though ashamed of it, had still held the thought shared with Willoughby that Colonel Brandon was a dull man.  
With my love's picture then my eye doth feast  
And to the painted banquet bids my heart;  
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest  
And in his thoughts of love doth share a part:

The emotion with which he read surprised her, for it was appropriate. It was up to her standards of how a poem should be read. He too was passionate about literature. It was a pleasant surprise.  
So, either by thy picture or my love,  
Thyself away art resent still with me;  
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,  
And I am still with them and they with thee;

She had thought for a moment she would have to endure a dull reading, only to be polite and friendly. However, she very much enjoyed this.  
Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight  
Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight.  
His choice of sonnet went unnoticed by her, who was now in a slumber. He placed to book on the table beside her and took his leave for her to rest, and was surprised when, on the next morning, Miss Dashwood once again came to call upon him, saying Mary-anne should like to hear him read again, if it were no trouble to him. He took the liberty of going to Mr. Palmer's library and choosing another book, as not to have to read from a token of Willoughby's and Mary-anne's affections again. Luckily, she was open to the suggestion.

And so it went on until it was safe for the Palmers to return to their home and for the Colonel to accompany the Dashwoods to Barton.

 

He could not sleep now for his thoughts went back to those days, merely a week past. He missed having contact with her every day, the closest they had ever been. Now he had to endure all this time with no word.

He could not sleep for in his thoughts also weighed all types of doubts and uncertainties.

Could she ever love him? She did not believe in second attachments, and probably believed her heart was wasted on Willoughby. Colonel Brandon did not have that obvious sort of charm Willoughby did, but then again that was necessary for a seducer such as that cad. And of course, there was the age difference. Seventeen to five-and-thirty. Eighteen years. My goodness, he was old enough to be her father, almost. She certainly would not ever regard him as a proper suitor. Perhaps that was for the best. He should content himself with her friendship.

But what should he do with all the love he felt swelling in his chest for her? He had never felt quite like this before. He could not get her out of his mind, and when he was around her, it was so very hard to hide his regard. His love. So much so that her sister had noticed, he suspected. And in the carriage ride to Cleveland her mother had also come to perceive it. She had given him her blessing to court her daughter, but what good would that do if the girl had no interest whatsoever? He would learn to live with his love hidden. He had been through much worse hardships... Or had he? Eighteen years... eighteen.

His maid, Ruth came in and informed a letter had just arrived. He lifted his head from his hands and she gave him the letter.

“Thank you, Ruth.”

It was from Barton Cottage, from Mrs. Dashwood.

His heart stopped beating, cold in his chest. Had something happened to Mary-anne? Had her health regressed? He almost asked to have his horse saddled immediately, even not having read the letter. He would ride at night, not minding the dangers, to get to her.

Colonel Brandon took deep breaths to try and calm himself and opened the letter.

 

Colonel Brandon,

 

It has been long, too long, since we last saw or heard from you. Have any of us done something to offend you? If so, pray forgive us, it was not our intention. Your friendship is much appreciated in our household. Mary-anne is well, recovering slowly, though her eyes still pain her when reading. We have all tried reading to her, but no one seems to meet her standards quite like you do, and she turns into a rather nervous patient. We do expect your visit, anytime you like, although the sooner the better.

 

Your friend,

Amelia Dashwood.

Though he could not take Mrs. Dashwood's word for it, for she might be flattering him just as part of a plan to get him and Mary-anne together, he did enjoy the notion that Mary-anne might have found some joy in their time together. That thought soothed him.

He would ride to Barton in the morning, for Mrs. Dashwood and Miss Dashwood were also dear friends, and the former had asked for his visit. But he would not allow his heart to hope for anything from Mary-anne.

His mind told him so, but his heart was soothed with hope, and he could finally go to sleep.

Chapter 2: At the Cottage

Colonel Brandon rose early in the morning despite having taken long to go to bed. He dressed and went about his morning routine calmly, but in his chest, his heart thudded at the prospect of laying eyes on Mary-anne Dashwood once again, after a week of having her in his every thought.

He had not been able to go about his days without wondering how her health was, without conjuring up her picture in his mind’s eye, without remembering the mix of emotions he had felt when fetching her in the rain – excitement, for finally being able to embrace her, to hold her in his arms, to feel her body against his, but fear of the situation in which it happened, wondering if he’d ever see her bright smile again, if he would see her full of life again.

Once he was ready, he went down to his library and selected a couple of books to take with him, and proceeded to the hothouse to gather some flowers to make her a bouquet.

As he was ridding to Barton, he second guessed his decision to take flowers. She could shy away from him, as she had done before. But wouldn’t it be rude to show up empty-handed?

After what seemed like too long a ride, he came up to the cottage. As he dismounted, Margaret was already running up to him.

“Hello, Colonel!” She curtsied.

“Captain Margaret,” he saluted her, as he often did, a jest between them.

“Why haven’t you come visit us?”

“I did not wish to intrude… your sister needs her rest and…”

Elinor came out of the house and the Colonel’s words were cut off. Margaret went inside to warn her mother of the visitor who had just arrived.

“Colonel! Pray, do come in.”

“Miss Dashwood”. He bowed.

“I am so glad to see you.”

After exchanging pleasantries and hearing all about Mary-anne’s progress during breakfast, which she did not attend, he heard about how she still could not get out of bed for long periods of time, and he figured he would not be able to see her after all. He pondered whether he should let it be and only wish her well, or if he should at least offer the bouquet he had brought. It seemed like a waste, to take the flowers back with him to Delaford, only to be thrown away. Besides, since her sister or mother would be the ones presenting it to her, he had nothing to fear. He would not see her disappointment or disinterest, should they occur. After a few more moments of conversation, he decided to go to his riding bag, which rested on a chair in the corner, and fetch the bouquet he had brought.

“I hope you will give Miss Mary-anne my wishes of a speedy recovery, along with these flowers. They were much prettier when I picked them out. I should have presented them as soon as I got here.”

“Nonsense, Colonel! They are very beautiful. And you may give them to her yourself. She will want to see you,” Miss Dashwood said, leading him to the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes,” Margaret’s voice arose from behind them. “She has been in a foul mood all week, perhaps you can cheer her up!” Mrs. Dashwood tugged on her arm and gave her a stern look. “What? It’s true,” Margaret muttered.

“Colonel, I’ll go up and warn her you are here” and Mrs. Dashwood hurried up the stais.

Elinor walked the Colonel up. She was saying something to him, but he could not hear, for his heart was thumping in his ear, it seemed. He could not let his hopes get the best of him. The only thing that was growing, perhaps, was their friendship. That was all.

He was at the door of her room and hadn’t even noticed he had gotten there.

“Colonel Brandon, do come in.” Mary-anne’s voice was still weak, but there was some cheer. “Forgive me for not being able to receive your visit in better conditions, but the doctor and my nurses won’t let me get out of bed.” She looked at her mother and her elder sister with something of a smile on her face.

“It’s quite alright, Miss Mary-anne. Your health should come first.” He gave a shy little smile. Then, he remembered the bouquet in his hand. “These… are for you,” he said rather nervously, handing them over to her.

“Oh, they’re beautiful!” She lifted them to her nostrils and breathed in. “Thank you, Colonel. Mama, would you please put these in a vase and place them here by my bed? They shall cheer me up.”

Colonel Brandon felt relief, and it came with the hopefulness he wished to keep in check but could not quite manage to. She hadn’t given nearly as much attention to his last – and only – bouquet.

“Colonel, pray, do sit down.” She pointed at a chair in the corner behind him.

Mrs. Dashwood came back in the room with the flowers in a vase and placed them on the small table beside Mary-anne’s bed. She looked over at them and gave a little smile. Her mother and sister left the room. There followed an awkward silence.

“How have you been, Colonel?”

“I’ve… been well, Miss Mary-anne, thank you for asking. I see you’ve been making a speedy recovery.”

She was propped on several pillows, sitting up in bed. Her complexion was not back to its usual pink that made her so lively and beautiful, and her eyes still carried a tired look, but overall, she looked better than the week before. She was still the most beautiful creature Colonel Brandon had ever seen.

“Not as speedy as I wished.”

Another awkward pause.

“Miss Mary-anne, I took the liberty of bringing a book, if you would wish me to read to you again,” he managed the courage to say.

“That would be lovely, Colonel.”

He took the book he had placed in his coat pocket, and opened it. He was about to start reading when she said:

“Colonel, pull your chair closer, please. So I can hear you better.”

He was a little startled. It was unusual to be in a lady’s bedchamber like this, and her asking him to come closer surprised him. He stiffly got up and carried the chair to the foot of her bed. She secretly wished he would have gotten closer, but dared say no more.

His reading to her, now that she felt a little stronger, led them to interesting conversations. Before, she would just hear him and be soothed, for she had not the strength to discuss anything.

She was amazed at how in such a short period of time, she got to see glimpses of a truly interesting man. A man she had written off as uninteresting and boring, a man whose friendship she had snubbed. But the notion of being his friend was warmer and warmer in her heart.

Time passed rather quickly and Colonel Brandon had to be off. He closed the book that had been forgotten on his lap for quite some time now due to their conversation and got up.

“Miss Mary-anne, it was delightful to have spent this day with you.”

He was very happy indeed. Never had he spent so much time with her. She did not have the time for him before. He was delighted he had gotten to know her a little more that day, though his observation of her even when she was not paying him any mind made him know her quite well. And love her more. He would cherish the memories made today. It was funny how, in the time he had known the Dashwoods, he had had more conversations with Mary-anne’s sisters than with herself, and yet he loved her truly nonetheless. Love at first sight. As if he were still a boy. He smiled at that thought.

Any and every new piece of information he learned of her only contributed to the growth of his love. But he could not show it. He would cherish the memories of what he lived today, for he did not know when she would wish to see him again, when his presence would not be a burden, when it would be desired, if ever again.

He was at the door, ready to bid her farewell.

“Colonel Brandon, may I expect you again tomorrow?”

He gave that timid smile that showed no teeth, even as inside, his heart swelled so much he felt as if it would not fit in his chest any longer. She did wish to see him again. And soon.

“Yes” he said, with the timid smile on his face. “Till tomorrow then.”

“Till tomorrow.”  
Chapter 3: The Tree House  
Chapter Text

Mary-anne Dashwood sat in the parlor, a blanket over her legs, as she stared out the window. It was the first time her mother had allowed her to leave her room. That wish was granted only after fierce requests. Though what she really wished to do was leave the house, sitting downstairs in the parlor was better than nothing. Her mother feared the fever would return, and going outside was unimaginable. She had even closed the window to the parlor, afraid of the chill that would come in.

Beyond that window, she watched Colonel Brandon. She had not known that in the past couple of days, before he came up to see her or after he had taken his leave, he had been just outside, building Margaret a tree house.

Though he had borrowed one of sir John’s servants (possibly because Delaford was too far to bring along one of his own servants – perhaps even the Colonel himself had been staying at Barton park), he himself was very hands on with the work. His sleeves were pulled up, his waistcoat unbuttoned and his cravat slightly undone. His coat and his riding hat sat on the armchair next to her. She could smell him on them. He had a pleasant smell.

He directed Sir John’s servant as to what should be done and while he did as he was told, the Colonel occupied himself with other tasks. Nailing boards and such.

It was really very nice of him. Margaret had had a tree house at Norland and it was one of the things she missed the most. So much so that she was outside, overseeing their work, and when she was not jumping up and down in excitement, saying something that made the Colonel smile (a real smile, baring teeth, not the shy ones he gave Mary-anne), she ran around in pure joy. He was a good friend to her family. A very good friend. And Mary-anne felt ashamed she hadn’t appreciated him sooner and had treated him so unfairly. Watching him filled her heart with warmth. 

But she must remember that he was a friend, nothing more. It is true that at first, when her fever first broke away, she had only called upon him after being told he was the one who fetched her. She was required to thank him, of course, and she would try to be pleasant and friendly. Once he was in her presence and started to read a sonnet to her, she realized perhaps he was not as boring as she had thought. His velvet voice was pleasant and soothing, and he read with the passion and emotion the literature required. She had never imagined he had that in him. Sadly, her exhaustion overcame her, and she was in a slumber before anything else could be said or learnt.

During the next visits, in addition to reading to her, some conversation was shared and she learned he was more interesting than first impressions allowed to notice. With the passing days, she became fully and completely ashamed of her prior assessment of him, granting to herself beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was in fact delightful company she could have enjoyed, like her sister had, hadn’t she been so petty and foolish.

During the brief period she was back at Barton Cottage, she had gotten better and could remember for herself when the Colonel had found her lying in the rain, how he swept her up and walked oh so many miles with her in his arms, cradling her tight. His rescue had been more dramatic and more significant than Willoughby’s, and her romantic side began to flourish again with that thought. But she must restrain herself. She caught herself wondering what it would feel like to be wrapped in his embrace.

She had even begun making comparisons between Willoughby and the Colonel. Though she had enjoyed when Willoughby read to her, somehow she enjoyed the Colonel’s reading better. Maybe it was the lack of choice at the moment. But where Willoughby had ill intended comments about the Colonel for no apparent reason, Colonel Brandon never had a rude word to say about Willoughby, even though he had enough reasons to. But then again the subject hadn’t come up. Where Willoughby was selfish and thought only of himself, the Colonel was generous, something he was proving yet again at that very moment. Willoughby caused hurt to a young woman, seduced her and left her alone without a second thought. Colonel Brandon would never do such a thing. He had taken in a girl who was not even his daughter by blood, disregarding any distasteful comments that could be made of him, and had taken her in yet again – and her child – again not giving mind to whatever shame that might cause. The Colonel was a true gentleman. Willoughby had caused her sorrow, insinuating he loved her and then leaving her with no explanation. But she had her share of blame in that, for she was foolish and let him deceive her.

No, she would not be foolish again. Though she firmly believed the Colonel would never deceive her, that did not mean she could not make a fool of herself. She was beginning to see the Colonel differently, and if that grew, if she let it grow… No, Colonel Brandon did not feel that way. How could he? A mature gentleman, intelligent, kind… feel such things, towards a girl like her? Who had treated him so unfairly? She could not let herself get caught in such emotions for she would be mistaking his friendship, perhaps friendship that was more inclined towards her family than to her, and make a fool of herself again.

Besides, what would it say about her if she formed an attachment? A second attachment, and so soon? Love could not be copied like that. Love, once lost, could not be found again. Not true love. Not so soon. Perhaps not ever.

She had to restrain herself. Be proper. Have sense, like her sister. Not give in to her foolishness.

The tree house was done. As Colonel Brandon’s helper went off, taking the tools back to Barton Park, and Margaret went up her tree house in delight, Colonel Brandon walked towards the Cottage, lowering his sleeves and buttoning up his waistcoat. A breeze ruffled his voluminous blond hair. She wondered if he would read to her, or stay a while to talk, or if he had to be on his way.

He was already inside.

“Miss Mary-anne.” He bowed and gave that polite smile, almost undetectable.

Her heart filled with warmth again.

Chapter 4: Broken Hearts  
Chapter Text

Mary-anne had been confined to her house for days. Her most constant company other than her family, Colonel Brandon, was the one who convinced Mrs. Dashwood to allow them to go to the garden for their almost daily routine of reading and talking, and she was grateful for it. To be outside, see the trees and leaves, feel the fresh spring air. And for a couple of days, that was enough for her. But not today. Today she fancied a walk. She felt she was strong enough for it, and proposed one to the Colonel. He had been reading to her, and when he paused to turn the page, she quietly started:

“Colonel Brandon, would you be so kind as to accompany me on a walk?”

“But, Miss Mary-anne, are you… can you…”

“I believe I can. I might need to take your arm, for support, if you don’t mind of course. But I miss having my walks. I think if I remain here seated one more day, I might forget how to use my legs,” she smiled, that twinkle in her eyes that Willoughby and the fever had stolen away slowly showing itself again. He smiled back, his lips curving in that same timid, almost imperceptible way.

“Well then, I think we must.”

He got up from his little stool, which was positioned beside her chair, and went around to stand in front of her. He reached out both his hands, palms up, while he said:

“Allow me to help you up?”

She smiled and placed her hands in his.

For one moment, the world stopped turning. Colonel Brandon could feel her warm, gentle touch on his bare hands, and he needed nothing else to be happy. She pulled herself up, awakening him from his brief reverie, and let go of his hands to straighten out her dress. He stood beside her, arms now on his back, one hand gripping the other fist.

When she was ready, they began to walk, both forgetting to let someone in the house know of their plans, but surely Elinor was watching from the window. After a few steps, he felt her hand grip his right arm, and he got startled.

“May I?” she said, placing her hand firmly in the fold between his arm and forearm. He brought his hand forward to lean against his stomach, to give her proper support.

“Of course. But are you feeling well?”

“Yes, yes. Just a bit lightheaded, but nothing to be alarmed over.”

Had she been on his left side, she would certainly feel his heart thumping in his chest with her hand poisoned where it was, for it leapt so hard he felt as if his ribcage could not hold it in his body for much longer. But he needed to remind himself that it was only a necessity, for she had been ill. He must not read anything into it.

They walked in silence for a while.

“Colonel Brandon, may I ask you a question?” she said, breaking the silence.

“You may.”

“If I’m being too forward, pray excuse me, you don’t have to answer. It’s just that I’ve felt so comfortable in the time we’ve spent together, I might begin to overstep.”

“I don’t believe you would ever do that, Miss Mary-anne. I too have enjoyed our time together and couldn’t be bothered by any inquiries you may have” he said, though his throat was dry, worried of what was to come.

Another moment of silence.

“I’ve… I’ve of course heard through my sister, for you told her, about your… your past.”

He remained silent.

Mary-anne gathered courage and went on.

“Did you truly love Eliza?”

He did not expect this. Though he was nervous, he answered “I did.”

“And do you believe that after having one’s heart broken in such a way, one can find love again?”

He was suddenly very aware once again of her hand wedged in between his arm and his torso and the sheer joy that it brought him.

“I do,” he answered.

“You do!? As strongly as the first time?”

“Yes, I believe that is possible.”

Another moment of silence.

“And have you?”

He feared what would result of that question. Would he be forced to confess his feelings right there and then, under such circumstances? It was not how he thought of doing it, if he ever would do it at all.

“I have.”

He braced himself for the question he thought was to come, but it didn’t. Instead, the conversation went in an opposite direction.

“Do you think I ever could? Not that I would compare what you went through to what… what Willoughby did.”

There it was. Somehow, somewhere along the way, he had let his guard down, though he was always attentive not to let that happen. She had not mentioned the subject ever since they started their readings together, and seemed more cheerful each day, so he stopped expecting it, to say the least. And now, to hear that name bursting through her lips again, it felt like a punch to his stomach.

“I hope so,” he looked at her longingly. His heart felt as if it was being crushed by and invisible hand. She watched the ground.

“I’m not even sure I want to. Maybe it’s best I dedicate myself to my studies, and to taking care of Mama.”

He said nothing. The hope that had crept into his heart these past few weeks, unbeknownst to him, washed away in an instant. It was useless. She still had Willoughby on her mind. Maybe she would never forget him. He himself had taken a long time to move past Eliza. But had he met someone like Mary-anne Dashwood sooner… Though there was no one quite like her.

“Colonel, could you… please, tell me about… about your confrontation with Willoughby?”

His heart froze. He never wanted to approach this subject with her.

“What… what do you mean?”

“Elinor said you… you challenged him to a duel.”

He swallowed though his mouth was dry.

“Miss Mary-anne, I do not wish you to think I am barbaric for taking such actions… but due to the options that were left to me by…by Willoughby, it was necessary. I had to do something to defend Eliza’s honor.”

“I understand, Colonel. And I do not think you are barbaric. Though the thought of the possible outcome does horrify me.”

The light in her eyes went out for a moment when she thought of Willoughby dying. A lonely tear ran down her face, but before more could follow, she controlled herself. But it wasn’t fast enough for the Colonel not to notice. His aching heart, for having to speak of this, for having her say she wouldn’t want to find love again, for being so bare, with his heart almost exposed, ached deeper when he saw that tear. Would she have preferred that Willoughby bested him and that he died? That thought broke yet another piece of his heart.

“So, what happened, Colonel? How did both of you come out unscathed?”

He did not wish to, he could not, tell her the whole truth. He could not tell her that he spared Willoughby’s life because he did not want to forever be the cause of such sorrow to her, and lose for certain the chance of having at least her friendship, of being a part of her life in some way, though that chance, at the time, was very slim anyway. But he could not deny her an answer either. He had never been an authoritarian, nor would he start now. He was very distressed, but he hid it as best he could.

“He… I bested him.”

“That was expected, you being an army man.”

“And he pleaded for his life. I could not… Despite all he did, Eliza was still, maybe still is, infatuated by him, and she was most distressed when I left her and informed her of my intentions. I could not bear to have her hate me so. And taking the life of a man on his knees…”

A half-truth. Though Eliza was distressed and probably would hate him, that did not weigh on his decision. He was a father figure to Eliza, and fathers need to do what is best for their child. She would grow to see that what that scoundrel did to her required no less. Perhaps when her daughter was grown. And then she would come to forgive him. But the thought of causing sorrow to Mary-anne, undeserved sorrow, and killing a man that, to the best of his knowledge at the time, was engaged to her… he couldn’t.

“Oh. Thank you, Colonel, for being honest with me.”

He only managed to nod his head once.

By this time, they had turned around and were by the Cottage fence, where he had tied his horse. Colonel Brandon was very distressed, and couldn’t bear being there anymore. He needed to calm himself, or he might show his emotions.

“Miss Mary-anne, I’m afraid it is time for me to take my leave. Do pass on my goodbye to your mother and sisters, if you could. It is late and I really must be on my way.”

“Won’t you come in for some tea?”

“I really must go.”

“Have I offended you in some way?”

“Not at all. It’s just late and I have some letters I must write before I lose sunlight.”

“Will we see you tomorrow then?”

“I’m afraid not.” The Colonel was very agitated; he could barely hide it anymore. “I have some business at Delaford to tend to. But I might call back the day after, if you would have me.”

“Of course!”

“Are you alright to go back inside on your own, Miss Mary-anne?”

“I am, thank you.”

He mounted his horse and whilst he did so, he bid her farewell.

He hurriedly rode away, and as he did, the tears could finally roll down his face.  
Chapter 5: The Garden  
Chapter Text

It was a dinner party at Barton Park. One of Mary-anne’s first – if not the first – times out of the Cottage and its surroundings. The first time also that she was in the company of many people, and not just her family members and her constant friend, Colonel Brandon.

He wished for nothing more than to sit by her all night, but he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He mustn’t. He could give the wrong impression. Or worse – the right one. So he let her be, let her mingle, get reacquainted with the others, who hadn’t visited her as often and for as long a time as he had.

It wasn’t a large party, mostly the usual faces. But there were a couple of young men there, sons of a friend, a neighbor – what difference made it? – of Sir John’s. Mrs. Jennings, with all the events of late, seemed to have forgotten of her interest in seeing Mary-anne coupled with Colonel Brandon. But never of her obsession of marrying off every single lady in her reach. So she introduced these young men to Mary-anne and Elinor. They were at a pleasant age; the correct age for the sisters. Not at the wrong side of five-and-thirty like certain other gentlemen.

Colonel Brandon stood on one side of the room, brandy in hand, with Sir John, Mr. Palmer, and another gentleman. They talked about politics, hunting, or something other. Colonel Brandon couldn’t really say, for his eyes and attention were fixed on the corner of the room where Miss Mary-anne, her sister, and the two young men talked and smiled.

He watched from afar. His mix of emotions was considerable. Love, as he always felt with just the thought of her, let alone the sight of her, her presence; sadness and desperation, for not having her close, not being able to touch her. But today, mostly, an emotion he hadn’t felt in a while… jealousy.

He would again watch as another swept her off her feet, watch as they laughed and played together, watch by the sidelines as his friendship – at least in its current form – was forgotten and cast aside. He could only hope that this fine gentleman would indeed deserve her, unlike the last.

His eyes disengaged from the scene for a moment, so he could sip his brandy. In that brief moment, he met Mrs. Jennings’ gaze, who was sitting at the card table with Mrs. Dashwood and Mrs. Palmer. He could see in her eyes that she had perceived what she had done and remembered the Colonel’s interest in Mary-anne. Spending all that time with Miss Mary-anne was making his armor, built in so many years of hard work, crack, and people could see through him more easily. He, knowing Mrs. Jennings for as long as he did, could tell she was about to do something, perhaps go to him and apologize for her insensitivity, so he excused himself from the gentlemen while there was still time, and escaped the room altogether.

He went to a room in the back of the manor, which led to a garden. He stepped out, trailing the stepping stones that were spaced on the green grass until he reached a wooden bench. There were flowers all about him, a trellis along the wall of the house with plants growing over it, a gazebo straight ahead and beyond that, a pond. Above him, the night sky was clear and starry, the moon full, shining its light upon him. It was a beautiful night. If only a shooting star came along, he could make a wish. Would it come true?

He sat on the bench facing the garden, the door which he came from to his back, brandy still in his hand, and took a sip from his glass. The cool night air was refreshing and soothed him.

 

He heard footsteps behind him. At first he feared it was Mrs. Jennings, come to disturb his moment of peace, but he realized the footsteps were too soft and gentle to be hers. He did not turn around and remained looking up at the stars, feeling the cool night air wash over his cheeks.

Someone sat beside him.

“Colonel Brandon. Am I intruding?”

That voice was music to his ears, and he smiled. It was Miss Mary-anne.

“Not at all” he said, with his velvet, soothing voice, his eyes closed, still facing the stars.

He opened them and looked at her, smile still on his face.

“I had never been out here. It is very lovely,” she said.

“It is. A good spot for thinking.”

“And may I ask what you were thinking of?”

“You may not,” he said, in a tone that suggested a jest. He smiled, a wide smile. Maybe he had had too much brandy. She smiled back. “Where is your companion?” he asked. A hint of jealousy came through to his voice. “Grew tired of him?”

“I am afraid it was he who grew tired of me.”

“I am quite sure that is impossible.”

She looked at him a bit startled, but then smiled at the compliment.

“You are very kind, Colonel, but I’m afraid it is. My interest in him did not, nor will it ever, go beyond friendship, and I might have made that a bit too clear. Perhaps in a not so polite manner.”

He chuckled. He couldn’t deny he was pleased with that.

“Anyway, now he and his brother are disputing Elinor’s attention. They won’t succeed there either, I’m afraid, after what she has been through.”

He looked at her, baffled. She realized what she had done.

“Oh dear, I might have said too much. I drink a bit of wine and turn into Mrs. Jennings, apparently.” She smiled. “This habit of mine, of speaking my mind. I must restrain myself. Someone once told me that I wouldn’t find a husband if I didn’t change my ways. Not that I would want a husband that did not accept me as I am. But I’m sure it is a bit annoying and unladylike, this habit of mine.”

“I myself find it quite charming,” he said, still smiling. She realized she had never seen him smile so uninhibitedly, showing teeth, before. Not to her at least. He had a beautiful, contagious smile.

He did not inquire anything, though he was curious. Miss Dashwood was a dear friend and he worried for her well being, even more so because any harm to her would mean heartache to Miss Mary-anne.

Mary-anne continued anyway, though she did not quite understand why she felt the need to open up to him. So she blamed the wine.

“You are a dear friend, and a true gentleman, I’m sure there would be no harm in telling you.”

“Miss Mary-anne, if you ever feel the need to talk to someone, you can confide in me. I promise to do my best to soothe your worries.”

“Well, Colonel, while we were at Norland still, Elinor formed and attachment to Mr. Edward Ferrars, and I’m sure he to her as well. She was unaware of his prior engagement and only learned of it through Miss Steele herself. She does not talk about it or express any emotion, but I worry for her. I truly cannot decide if it is better to be sensible like she is and not talk to a soul, or if perhaps my ways… my old ways have some benefit after all.”

Colonel Brandon was happy to see a glimpse of the old Mary-anne coming back. She had been very restrained and not much like herself of late, though she was charming all the same. But at the same time, he was shocked. He sat there with his free hand on the bench between them, the brandy in the other. He took another sip.

“Colonel, are you well? Have I said something to upset you? Forgive me.”

“No, Miss Mary-anne, there is nothing to forgive. It’s just… I wasn’t aware of this… these events, and I offered the Parish at Delaford to Mr. Ferrars… which will enable him to marry Miss Steele. Therefore, even if unwillingly, I have contributed to your sister’s sorrow.”

“Oh no, Colonel, do not feel bad. My sister does not think less of you, nor do any of us. If anything, we think more of you. You are truly a great man and have the kindest of hearts.”

She placed her hand on his and caressed it, without much thought to what she was doing. When she came to her senses, she quickly removed her hand.

For those few seconds, the colonel felt as if he were in heaven. Maybe a shooting star had gone by after all. His heart beat as if it were in his throat, and he couldn’t say anything for a couple of minutes.

He broke the silence. “Well, I wish your sister happiness. I do hope all this can be overcome somehow.”

“Colonel Brandon, pray forgive me. I shouldn’t have told you such things. Whatever must you think of me! A lady who betrays her sister’s trust. I do not know what came over me.” She seemed exasperated.

“Miss Mary-anne, I could never think less of you. Ever. You are worried for your sister’s well being and needed someone to open up to. And I do not know what you think of me, but I do consider myself your friend.” He smiled, but there was something like longing in his eyes. “You can be open and honest with me always. I… appreciate you just as you are. And you can trust me.”

She looked up at him, a bit flushed, and smiled.

“Now, I do believe that if we are any longer, people will start to miss us,” he said after a moment of silence. “And we wouldn’t want everyone to discover this little piece of heaven, would we?”

“Indeed not!”

Chapter 6: Riding  
Chapter Text

Sir John had invited everyone to Barton Park. Mary-anne was well on her feet already, and Sir John, always delighted with company, thought it merry to have a great lunch. The Dashwoods, Mrs. Jennings, and, of course, Colonel Brandon were all there, having stimulating conversations after they had eaten, when Margaret asked the Colonel to go riding.

Margaret was accustomed to going riding with the Colonel every time they were at Barton Park. Due to the long standing friendship between him and Sir John, Colonel Brandon had many liberties, and thus knew his way around the stables pretty well. Margaret, friendly as she was, expressed the wish to ride on their first meeting, and with her mother’s permission, Colonel Brandon took her. She took the opportunity to learn more of the East Indies. Everything she could, actually.

Since then, it had become a sort of ritual for them. She would inquire about his travels and improve her riding skills under his watchful and experienced eye, and he was happy to have such innocent and cheerful company. Mary-anne hadn’t taken much notice of this arrangement, for she was, more often than not, absorbed in Willoughby. She was out on his barouche with him, or drawing him, just breathing him. That was also a reason why the Colonel enjoyed his outings with Margaret so much. He wouldn’t have to endure such sights that made his heart so heavy with pain.

 

Colonel Brandon opened the front door and Margaret ran out ahead of him. He was about to follow her when a voice coming from behind stopped him.

“Colonel Brandon!”

He turned around and there was Miss Mary-anne, standing midway from the drawing room door.

“I shall like to accompany you, if it is not too much trouble.”

Colonel Brandon was surprised and very pleased she wanted his company. They had spent quite a lot of time together, but he was not sure if she enjoyed his company that much. He thought maybe since she hadn’t been able to get away from the cottage many times, she would endure whatever company she got there – mainly him. Now that she was around different people, he thought she would rejoice in spending time with someone else.

“It would be a pleasure, Miss Mary-anne. But are you certain you are well enough for it?”

“I am, Colonel. I cannot be treated like an invalid for the rest of my life!” She smiled up at him, quietly thankful that he worried about her.

He held the door open for her and gave a slight bow, with a smile. She passed and waited for him outside, so they could walk side by side.

They exchanged polite conversation about how lovely the weather was and about the food they had just eaten. A bit shallow, considering the time they had spent together and the conversations they had had. By the time they got to the stables, Margaret was already impatient.

“What took you so long?”

“Margaret, don’t be rude!” Mary-anne warned.

“Forgive us, Captain Margaret, we’ll be off soon enough” Colonel Brandon said, in a playful tone and saluting Margaret.

He went into the stables and came out with one horse, while the stable hand came out with two more, one of which was his own stallion he rode from Delaford. The Colonel saddled the horse he brought out while the stable hand prepared the other two. As soon as the Colonel was done, an eager Margaret was already climbing on the horse, not requiring much help from the Colonel.

“Be careful, Captain Margaret.”

“I will, Colonel.” And she was off, riding close by, waiting for them.

Mary-anne was amused at how good the Colonel was with Margaret. Playful, not so formal and stiff as he usually was around everyone else. They had spent time together lately, and though he sometimes did let his guard down and she got glimpses of a more open and charming man, it was as though he was always reminded of something that made him pull away, back into his armor after a while.

The stable hand was done with the two horses and went back to his duties with a thank you from Colonel Brandon. He tied his horse nearby and held the other for Miss Mary-anne.

“It seems that John does not have a stool in his stables to help young ladies mount their horses. Do you… may I… Do I have permission to help you, Miss Mary-anne?” He looked timid, but firm.

“Would you please, Colonel? I am not as used to riding as Margaret, it seems.” She smiled.

He came close to her, so close they were almost in an embrace. She had never noticed how much taller he was than her. He placed his hands on her waist and she took support on his shoulders. As she did so, she noticed how broad and strong they were. She also could smell his cologne, a pleasant smell that made her drift away in reveries of how good it would feel to be embraced by him. He then lifted her up to the horse as if it were nothing. As if… as if she weighed no more than a leaf. She flushed red and what seemed to be butterflies fluttered around in her stomach for a while.

It was true, he was strong. She suddenly remembered he had carried her swiftly in the rain for God knows how many miles when he had saved her from certain death. It seems there was a lot about the Colonel – a lot more than she initially thought –she had misjudged based solely on a few encounters and his age, and then with the influence of Willoughby. Or a lot she, for some reason, had refused to see.

The Colonel was flushed too, seeing as he, deep in his heart, longed to hold her every day, but couldn’t. This was the first time he had come close to holding her since he carried her to Cleveland in the rain, and the fear for her life at that time had prevented him from fully realizing that he held her, he finally held her. It had been a bittersweet feeling. Mary-anne did not notice his flush, for he was quick to turn and retrieve his horse.

As he mounted, Mary-anne, now more aware of him, noticed how elegantly he held himself, how his strong legs pulled him up, how his hat was slightly tilted and how beneath it, his blond, full hair waved with the breeze and his eyes narrowed as the sunlight hit them slightly.

He looked at her and smiled. “Shall we? Margaret is impatient.” He motioned to where Margaret rode in circles, awaiting them and biding them to hurry. Mary-anne laughed at the sight of her sister and off they went.

Margaret rode in front of them through the trails and they were left a little behind. Colonel Brandon engaged Miss Mary-anne in conversation, being careful to not take his eyes off Margaret for long periods of time, for fear she might need aid and he not perceive it.

“Miss Mary-anne, you said you are not used to riding. Did you not like to ride at Norland?”

“I rode occasionally, but Elinor was the one who most liked to. I preferred to spend my time at the pianoforte. Or reading.”

He nodded as they rode on.

“Of course I never had such pleasant company. I believe now I shall take to riding more often.” She smiled a broad smile. She did not know why she said that, but she suddenly felt the need to. It was true. She guessed there was no harm in flattering a friend. No improprieties.

The colonel looked at her startled and though he smiled one of his timid and discrete smiles, in his chest his heart pounded and filled with warmth. The pounding increased when his horse changed its course slightly and his leg came to graze hers. He secretly wished there weren’t such layers of clothes and his boots in the way of him feeling her soft, warm skin, but he quickly nudged his horse back into course.

“Tell me, Colonel, what do you do for leisure?”

“Of late I’ve been reading and sharing stimulating conversation with a sickly young lady.” His smile now showed teeth.

“Oh, poor Colonel, I’ve been taking up all of your time when I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“Nothing brings me more joy than to spend time with you, Miss Mary-anne. I’m afraid you are the one who will have to put an end to these interactions, when you finally grow tired of me and healthy enough to run away.” Again he gave a smile, a timid one, for his heart was heavy with fear he, even if meant in jest, spoke the truth, that she would grow tired of him.

“Then we shall have a long friendship, for I don’t see how I could ever grow tired of your company. If I ever do run away, please fetch me again and bring me back to my senses.”

He did not know how to react to such compliments. He was afraid he might read too much into them and make a fool of himself, thinking she might feel for him something similar to what he felt for her. So he avoided action and tried to hold his composure as they rode on.

Chapter 7: A Ball  
Chapter Text

Ever since her fever subsided, Mary-anne had had a few visits from Sir John and Mrs. Jennings, but Colonel Brandon was the most constant presence at Barton Cottage. When he wasn’t away on business or wasn’t held back to tend to his estate, he would be by Mary-anne’s side. In the name of propriety, he would say he was visiting all of the Dashwood ladies, who had become his very good friends, but it was obvious – maybe not to all – that his greatest interest was Mary-anne Dashwood. Mrs. Dashwood, who was aware of the Colonel’s feelings towards Mary-anne and approved of the match, would often let them sit alone after a short visit, always with the excuse that Elinor and herself had some errand to tend to and that Mary-anne couldn’t be left in more able hands.

Mary-anne, who had long felt shame for having been so rude to Colonel Brandon – such a good friend to her family and most dependable in times of need – and for going along with Willoughby’s taunting of him, was resolute on somehow making it up to him and showing her appreciation and gratitude towards him, so she would sit with him for hours. However, very early on she already did not feel like it was a duty or a matter of being polite. The Colonel, after given the chance, made for very interesting company. He had many common interests with her, and more experience, so something was always to be learned from him. Besides that, he had a very good reading voice – soothing yet passionate – and would read to her. At first because her eyes grew tired very quickly, but later, just because she liked hearing his deep yet tender voice. He was also very well traveled, so sometimes he would tell her some interesting anecdote about the places he had visited. Mary-anne enjoyed his presence and even – dare she think it? – missed him when he wasn’t able to show.

In one of their most recent talks, she confided to him that though his company was lovely and made her days incomparably better, she was a bit tired of sitting in her house or the garden all day, having been away only twice, to Barton Park. She yearned for the day when she could go for a long walk, go out more often, or even go to a ball. The last ball she had gone to hadn’t been a pleasant experience, and she would like to change that and make new memories.

“Well, Miss Mary-anne, all of that could be arranged.”

“Oh Colonel, I’m sure a man of your stature and influence can very well arrange for anything, but you’ve already done too much for me. I would be very content in simply having you escort me on a long walk.” And that he did, right away.

But the Colonel also let the idea of a ball slip to Sir. John, for he knew Sir John loved parties and having company, and would definitely arrange one Miss Mary-anne could attend.

And so here she was, sitting in a carriage, heading to Barton Park. She certainly wouldn’t know many people there, but she knew enough people to be comfortable. And the Colonel would also be there.

What was this? This feeling that was coming up inside her? It wasn’t like anything she had felt before. Nonetheless it felt good. It felt right. She just knew she looked forward to seeing the Colonel. How dashing would he look in his ball attire?

“Mary-anne, are you well? You are awfully quiet,” Elinor said, cutting off her thoughts.

“I’m quite alright, dear sister.”

“I know you, Mary-anne. You are probably mulling over the last ball we went to. I know you are dreading this, but please try to be civil to everybody.”

“Well sister, it seems you do NOT know me as well as you think, for I very much look forward to this ball, to make new and pleasant memories. And as for being civil, you hurt me, dearest. No need to bring up my mistakes every time we are to meet with those I’ve done wrong by. I remind myself of it every day and suffer over my foolishness. Especially towards Colonel Brandon.”

Elinor and her mother exchanged glances and small smiles.

They arrived.

The room was ample and full of people, very few familiar faces. The Dashwoods made their way around, saying hello to the ones they knew, and being introduced to new people. Mary-anne made conversation with everyone, very civil, as requested by her sister, but all the while her eyes were scanning the room, looking for the Colonel.

When she finally saw him, he was engaged in conversation with a young lady. She seemed very pleased with the conversation. Of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be? The Colonel was a very charming man. But at the sight of that, her heart sank to her stomach. Could she be… jealous?

The Colonel’s eyes met hers, and he smiled and nodded. She reciprocated. He excused himself from the young lady and was making his way toward her. Her heart now was beating in her throat, it seemed.

“Mrs. Dashwood, Miss Dashwood, Miss Mary-anne,” he bowed.

“Colonel, how nice to see you here!” Mrs. Dashwood started. Elinor and her mother were soon engaged in conversation with him, but Mary-anne wasn’t paying much attention. She was busy noticing every detail of the Colonel’s attire, admiring how handsome he looked, how well fitted his clothes were. Suddenly, sir John pulled her away to introduce her to a young lady he thought would be a good friend for her. Mary-anne greeted her and made small conversation, but soon excused herself, for she wanted to get back to Colonel Brandon. But he was nowhere to be found.

Mary-anne scanned the room once more, for a long while, until she caught a glimpse of the Colonel walking to an adjacent room. She followed.

This room was very quiet in comparison to the former, and Colonel Brandon was alone, leaning against the wall in a corner, with a glass in his hand.

“Colonel! I thought I would find you engaged in conversation with that lovely young lady again. She seemed very absorbed in what you were saying.” She tried to say it without any resentment, but could not tell if she had succeeded. “Why are you out here hiding?” she added, trying to amend any ill impression she may have caused.

“I’m not the most comfortable in large crowds, Miss Mary-anne, so I find myself requiring small breaks from all the people. And though John means well, introducing me to every respectable single lady in the party does not help.”

Mary-anne was about to take her leave so the Colonel could have his break in peace, when he added “Honestly, the only respectable young lady I wouldn’t mind talking to is you, Miss Mary-anne.” Mary-anne flushed red and smiled timidly.

“Then I shall keep you company until you find that your break was long enough.”

“It will definitely need to be extended, now that I have found such lovely company.”

“You flatter me, Colonel, but I believe soon enough you’ll grow tired of me.”

Colonel Brandon did not answer. He just gazed at her and his eyes clearly stated that would never happen.

“You know, Miss Mary-anne,” he said, still leaning on the wall and holding his glass, but looking down at her gown, his eyes making their way up to hers, slowly, “if you do allow me to say so, you always look very lovely, and I thought you couldn’t possibly look more beautiful, but tonight you have proven me wrong. You have outdone yourself.” He was being too bold, he knew, but he didn’t seem to be able to restrain himself.

She looked away, shy, and after a moment her eyes found his again.

“Thank you, Colonel. You are very kind. And I must say, very handsome yourself.” He looked surprised that she would think of him as handsome in anyway. She continued. “Colonel, I’d like to thank you. I suspect you have something to do with this party, after I mentioned I was growing tired of sitting at home.”

“No thanks are needed. John loves parties and to surround himself with crowds, I simply planted a little seed…” He smiled at her and gave a very quick, playful wink.

She blushed. She liked this side of him, this side probably only very close friends saw. She liked to think she was considered a close friend. But little did she know that this side of Christopher Brandon wasn’t seen by anyone, not even the closest of friends, in a long time. All the hardships he had been through in life had made him more guarded. She was the one that brought that out in him. The one that made him… happy.

Colonel Brandon took a sip of his drink and started:

“Well then, Miss Mary-anne, you should go and enjoy your time out of the house. You shouldn’t waste such a good opportunity standing here in the corner talking to an old boring man such as myself.”

She felt ashamed. She herself had said that about him, and it was the furthest thing from the truth. But she could make him see she wasn’t like that anymore, that it wasn’t how she really felt. She could try, at least.

“I waste nothing. Quite the contrary, Colonel, I’m seizing a wonderful opportunity of getting to know a most interesting gentleman better.”

Colonel Brandon looked puzzled and a little shy, yet he smiled.

“Colonel, why don’t you ask me to dance? That way we can go enjoy the party and I can still benefit from the pleasure of your company.”

“Miss Mary-anne… I… I don’t…” He was nervous. What would everyone think upon seeing him dance with such a young and beautiful lady? Why would she want to be seen with him? His heart beat heavy in his chest. He was nervous, yet excited. He felt as if he were a boy again.

“What is the matter, Colonel? Surely a charming gentleman like yourself knows how to dance.”

“You might not feel well, Miss Mary-anne. It was not long ago you still had strong headaches…” He tried to justify himself.

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. If by chance I feel unwell, we already know you are strong enough to catch me.” She smiled up at him though she was blushing furiously.

How could he say no to her? He did not want to say no. But he was always so worried about being proper. To hell with propriety.

He placed his drink on the mantelpiece next to them and held out his hand. “Miss Mary-anne, will you do me the honor?”

She placed her hand in his. “Gladly, Colonel Brandon.”

He escorted her out on to the dance floor where a few couples were already dancing. When they had found a spot for them, he turned her so that she was facing him, and with his free hand, pulled her closer by the waist. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks, hot. She meant to place her hand on his shoulder, but he was much taller than she realized, so her hand rested on his chest before she could slide it up to his shoulder. In that brief moment she felt his heart pounding. Maybe Mrs. Jennings’ comments weren’t simply in jest. Maybe he did feel something more than friendship for her. Could it be? She smiled at the thought.

They danced, and with each swirl both their stomachs seemed to fly up to their throats in happiness, nervousness and confusion.

After Mary-anne’s head took all the swirling it could, they went back to their little corner, unaware of the rest of the world, and talked for a good portion of the rest of the night.

Chapter 8: Duets  
Chapter Text

It had been almost a fortnight since he last visited. He had sat outside on a sunny pleasant day and read her Edmund Spencer. When he stopped, she asked:

“Shall we continue tomorrow?”

“No, for I must away.”

And then, unbeknownst to her, the words came out of her mouth with a kind of longing that showed she might miss him.

“Away? Where?”

“That I cannot tell you. It is a secret.”

She smiled. “You will not stay away long?”

She was a bit startled at her own reaction. He didn’t owe her any explanation, he was but a friend, and yet she seemed very interested in him, in his every move.

Mary-anne thought about it for some time, but then dismissed it as just being used to his company. He had been there almost every day during her recovery. She liked his reading to her. His voiced was filled with passion when he read, and so were his eyes. It was a side of him she had never seen prior to her fever, so her admiration for him as a friend grew, that was all there was to it.

But a couple of days had passed and he hadn’t shown. She started to worry, for he said he wouldn’t be long. Could something have happened to him?

Three more days and then a parcel came for them at Barton Cottage. It was a pianoforte, sent by Colonel Brandon. He sent also a song for her to learn. That was so thoughtful of him. Ever since she had left Norland, Mary-anne hadn’t had a pianoforte she could practice on every day. She played at Sir John’s home occasionally, but that was it. She had missed being able to play daily, and Colonel Brandon had taken notice.

After having more time to think upon it than she had anticipated, Mary-anne came to the conclusion that she did indeed miss Colonel Brandon. She still didn’t quite understand why one could feel such deep things for merely a friend, but all she knew is that she looked forward to his arrival, which, the letter stated, was to be in two days. Until then, she had the song to learn and keep her head occupied.

But it was only four days later that a letter came. By such time, Mary-anne was in angst wondering what was taking him so long, and not understanding –or refusing to acknowledge – her own feelings. The letter invited the Dashwoods and Mr. Ferrars to Delaford.

Having heard of what had transpired in his absence – the good news of Miss Dashwood’s and Mr. Ferrars’ engagement – Colonel Brandon thought it would be a good idea for them to go have a look at what was to become their home, so he could order the improvements that were needed. It would also be an opportunity to make up for the picnic that never was all those months ago. He had stayed behind to make arrangements for the event, and apologized for not paying them the visit he had promised. He informed he would send a carriage for them, for Sir John and Mrs. Jennings could not fit them all in theirs.

 

Mary-anne rode with Elinor and Edward, while Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret traveled with Sir John and Mrs. Jennings. Elinor was worried, for Mary-anne was very quiet, contemplating the view outside. The last time she had been this secretive, she had fallen ill due to a broken heart. Elinor thought Willoughby was in the past, to be left further and further behind, but maybe he wasn’t out of Mary-anne’s thoughts after all. Or her heart. She had to ask.

“Mary-anne, are you quite alright, my dear?”

“Why do you ask?” she said, turning her empty gaze from the window to her sister.

“You are awfully quiet and seem rather sad.”

“Dear sister, I’m not sad. Maybe a bit confused. Trying to figure out what I want from life, and what it demands of me.”

“Well, that’s rather deep for such early ours in the morning” Edward said, trying to bring her cheer.

“Dearest, you can always talk to me” Elinor said. “I would rather you not fall ill again, mulling things over. Whatever brought on such feelings? You seemed to be doing well but have been changed for a few days now.”

“Do not concern yourself with me, dear sister. I’m just trying to be more prudent, more like yourself. Openly showing my emotions did not work out too well for me last time. I embarrassed myself and my family and came out with a heart broken to pieces. I shall now try to think things through with care, whatever the matter may be. But do not worry, I will come to you when I need.” She smiled.

“I just hope this new found introspectiveness does not bring back your rude behavior towards our friends, who have been very kind to you. Especially Colonel Brandon. I believe he is very fond of your company.”

Since Edward seemed to have misunderstood Colonel Brandon’s kindness toward himself as a fondness towards Elinor, their only common link, Elinor had explained to him how the Colonel’s affections were really towards her sister, and she herself was but a friend. Of course all of the passengers in the other carriage, save perhaps Margaret, also knew the Colonel was far more than fond of Mary-anne. Elinor feared, however, that the knowledge of that would scare Mary-anne away from his friendship and break his heart. Maybe the pianoforte he sent was too big a gesture and that was why she became quieter in the last few days. But upon seeing Mary-anne blush with her comment on Colonel Brandon enjoying her company, she felt a tad easier.

Upon arriving at Delaford, Mary-anne’s heart skipped a beat. The Colonel was waiting at the sweep, and she found herself hoping he would come help her out of the carriage, to feel his hand take hers, but Mr. Ferrars was quick to do that, right after he helped his betrothed. Pleasantries were exchanged by all, and after a brief tour of the grounds and the downstairs of the manor, everyone was invited outside for the picnic. Mary-anne Dashwood observed the Colonel play his role of host, his graciousness and charm, and at that moment, some of the confusion she was feeling cleared. Maybe she was regarding him as more than a friend. Could it be? But how could she, if she believed love to be a onetime phenomenon? And if she was forming an attachment to him, would he feel the same about her? She knew that he too had suffered a broken heart, in some ways much more grievous than her own experience. Why would he attach himself again? And to her! A young girl who was foolishly lead by her emotions and had made a fool of herself numerous times, even in his presence. And had been rude to him on many occasions. No, it couldn’t be. He certainly only regarded her as a friend, and she would make a fool out of herself yet again if she allowed her heart to go down the path it seemed to want to take.

After everyone was fed and talked out – all but Mary-anne, who deep in her heart wished greatly to speak to the Colonel, like they did back at the Cottage, but couldn’t, for he as host could not spare all his time on her alone – the Colonel invited Miss Dashwood and Mr. Ferrars to accompany him to their future home, so they could weigh in on what needed to be done. A servant of the Colonel was to go with them, probably to take notes on what was to be done. Before they left, the Colonel invited all who remained to feel at home, and turned to her.

“Miss Mary-anne, should you feel so inclined, there are many new books I acquired on my last trip in my library. You are free to have a look.”

Mary-anne smiled. “Thank you, Colonel. That is most kind.”

He smiled and bowed, and took his leave with Elinor and Edward.

After spending a quarter of an hour still in the garden with the rest of the party, Mary-anne excused herself and decided to go explore the Colonel’s library after all. It was a magnificent room, with shelves that stretched up towards the high ceiling. There were more books than she could count. He truly did share her love for literature. By the fireplace was a pair of high back chairs with a small table in between them. On the table was a book. Probably what he had been reading. She stepped closer to take a look. It was the book he had been reading to her before he went away. On the marked page were the exact lines he had read her last, before her little outburst of true emotion where she hinted he might be missed. “For whatsoever from one place doth fall, is with the tide unto another brought… For there is nothing lost, but may be found, if sought…” She did not take the fact that the page was marked to mean what in fact it meant, and wandered off the next room.

There sat a pianoforte, his Broadwood Grand, next to the window. Rays of sun shone in on it and made it simply irresistible to her. She sat at it and began to play the song the Colonel had sent to her along with the pianoforte. She had learned it by heart already.

It did not take very long for the Colonel to come in. The rest of the party, always willing to let them be, was chatting outside. Margaret flew kites with Sir John. The Colonel stood at the doorway, much like the first time he ever saw her, taking in her sweet voice and how lovely a sight it was to see her play. The sunlight reflecting off her hair made her shine even more. His heart swelled inside of him, full of love he wished to pour out on her, but could not. She did not notice he was there until she finished the song.

“Forgive my intrusion, Colonel. I was just playing the song you sent me” she said, blushing, not quite sure how to act around him anymore, for she had such mixed feelings and was afraid to let them show.

“It’s no intrusion at all, Miss Mary-anne. You are welcome to play the pianoforte anytime you wish. You play it beautifully. And your voice… is that of an angel. I’m glad you found the song I sent you to your liking.”

“It is a very beautiful song. It was very thoughtful of you to remember me, even when you were absorbed by business.”

He smiled in the timid way he was accustomed to. Little did she know that she took up most of his thoughts at all times, so much so that he bought the pianoforte. He would later rue the decision, thinking it was too bold a gesture, not sure if he could, or if he should even, try to win her affections and risk ruining the friendship he had obtained. All because it had seemed she was going to miss him when he stated he would be going away. A seasoned man, acting on his emotions like a boy again.

Her voice cut away his thoughts.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the opportunity to thank you for the pianoforte as well. It was the most generous gift! I don’t even know how I could repay you.”

“Just allowing me to enjoy your friendship is payment enough. And of course, giving me the pleasure of hearing you play.”

She blushed and smiled. The room fell silent for a moment. She then broke the silence.

“Colonel Brandon, I do believe I recall Mrs. Jennings saying you were an excellent player, but I have never heard you play. I would like to, very much.”

The Colonel blushed and felt nervous as a boy at the thought of playing something for her ears, and her ears alone. “Miss Mary-anne, I’m afraid Mrs. Jennings exaggerates in her flattery. You are a far superior player. I would even… be… embarrassed… to play for you.”

“Nonsense” she said, getting up and walking to him.”I would be delighted to hear you play.” She took his hand, as if beckoning him to the pianoforte. “Won’t you please allow me to hear one of your performances?” She smiled.

He could not say no to her, not when she took his hand so freely and looked at him so… affectionately. If she could feel how his heart beat now…

“Very well. But please, do not be too harsh of a judge.”

“Towards you, never.”

He took a deep breath and sat down at the pianoforte. After a moment’s consideration, he decided to play The Tempest by Beethoven, a song he was very familiar with and likely would not play incorrectly. He came to love that song, for it expressed his most inner feelings for a long time. Maybe even now, with all the joy and uncertainties in his heart, it was a good choice. And furthermore, it had no words to it. So he at least would be spared of singing.

He started to play and Mary-anne took a seat on a sofa nearby. She listened attentively and yet managed to observe his every move. He played very well, for like her, he played with his soul. She could see the passion in his eyes, in his movements. How she could have considered such a man to be boring, passionless, when he had such passion, such love for music, for literature, and shared so many of her interests with the same intensity she felt?

She had thought Willoughby was the type of man who was lively, who showed emotion for everything, like her, but in truth, he had no passion for anything. He only used all around him to achieve his own selfish purposes, without any regard for anyone. Or anything. Whereas Colonel Brandon, albeit quiet in his ways, felt a passion deep inside. She had already seen it while he read, and now his musical skills proved the point further.

When he finished, she had tears in her eyes. He quickly got up and handed her his handkerchief.

“Forgive me if I have caused you any pain.”

“No, Colonel! Never. It’s just that you played so beautifully” she said, drying her eyes. She did not hand him his handkerchief back, but instead kept it with her. Maybe subconsciously, it was on purpose. He had his hands on her free hand, and would never take the handkerchief back anyway. It pleased him to think that she would have a piece of him with her somehow, for a while at least.

“I have had the most joyous idea!” She said. “Maybe you can teach me a duet, so we can play together.”

“Miss Mary-anne, I don’t really know any duets either.”

She cringed when she remembered how extremely rude she had been when Mrs. Jennings suggested they play a duet. She squeezed his hand, as if in a reflex, and his heart leapt in his chest.

“Forgive me, Colonel” she said, looking down at their hands.

“Perhaps,” he said, dismissing whatever apology she was trying to make, “if you are patient with me, we can… learn one together. I happen to have one around somewhere.” He smiled. A real smile, not a shy one. He looked in her eyes, and tried to cheer her up.

“I would be delighted” she said, happy that the opportunity of mending her former rudeness had presented itself. And although she did not fully recognize it, happy for the opportunity of being closer to him.

He got up, reluctantly, for he did not wish to let go of her hand and stop feeling the warmth of her skin, and set off to retrieve the duet.

He had bought it in his most recent trip, along with the song he had sent her, thinking precisely of playing it with her. But he had not the courage of sending it, of implying what he wished. He then sat with it in his hands, angry at himself for being so hopeful, for acting like a foolish boy who didn’t know better. He thought he would never have the opportunity to play it, and it would just sit there in his drawer, reminding him of the fool he had been.

How delighted he was that he would after all, learn the duet. And with Miss Mary-anne. He came back with the sheet music in hand and placed it on the pianoforte. Then, he stood behind the bench, looking at her, not quite knowing how to proceed. They would have to sit very close together, for the bench could fit two, but not with the distance propriety perhaps demanded. He felt a knot in his throat, afraid she had not foreseen that situation and now, upon realizing it, would change her mind.

But before he could muster the courage to say something, she got up from the sofa she was sitting on and smiled, saying “Shall we?”

There they sat, facing the Broadwood Grand. He to the left, she to the right. Their thighs touched ever so slightly and that was enough to make his heart pound in his chest. Were she to his left side, she would certainly feel it, even hear it.

When they timidly began to try and find their way around the duet, their hands often touched. They giggled with the mistakes they made, and in a few minutes, they felt more at ease with the situation. Amidst the playing and giggling that was going on, Mary-anne felt the need to express her feelings, for the sake of her health. If she didn’t say it, she would surely suffer, endlessly mulling it over. She wanted so to be restrained like her sister, but in this moment, right now, she couldn’t.

She hadn’t realized she had stopped playing, and the Colonel was looking at her rather nervously, about to ask if it had been something he did. Before he could though, she took a deep breath, as if she was taking in courage, and said

“You know, Colonel, I have greatly missed your company for this past fortnight. If you must stay away for such long periods, you’ll have to stop spoiling me with the pleasure of your company so often.” She smiled, blushing.

Before he could process what was said and respond in any way, the party that was outside came in one by one, curious as to what had kept them. The Colonel got up from the bench and offered Mary-anne a hand to get up as well. And though Mrs. Jennings insisted she must hear whatever they were playing, the Colonel said it was not ready yet. There was much practicing to be done still.

Chapter 9: Flowers and duets  
Chapter Text

Colonel Brandon approached Barton Cottage on his horse. It had been two days since he had last seen his beloved Mary-anne. The Dashwoods were at Delaford and Mary-anne had expressed that she had missed him for the fortnight he had been away. Those words filled his chest with a warm serenity and with hope, something that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel, though unbeknownst to him, his heart had allowed the feeling in long before.

He pondered what could come of this all. He could continue to hide what he felt, wear his armor, and learn to live with only Mary-anne’s friendship, which was already more than he had hoped to obtain after her initial rejection of him. If she persisted in her idea that no second attachments should ever be formed, and that she would dedicate herself to studies and helping her mother, it could even be a pleasurable arrangement. However, eventually, a gentleman could come and make her change her mind. Could he live with that pain? Why should he not be that gentleman?

On the other hand, he had already had a brief attempt at courting her, which was promptly refused. If he had another try, he could risk their friendship and have to learn to live without her altogether. It was a matter of which pain was more endurable.

His heart had decided, not in agreement with his mind, to attempt, at least modestly, to court her. This is why he rode to Barton Cottage with a bouquet, something he had only offered her with the excuse of wishing her health restored.

He dismounted his horse and tied it on the fence. His nerves were getting the best of him, so he took a moment to calm himself before he walked up to the house. When he finally felt he could act calmly, he climbed the small hill up to the cottage. Mary-anne was at the door, waiting to receive him.

“Miss Mary-anne,” he smiled and bowed, taking off his hat.

“Colonel Brandon,” she curtsied. “How lovely to see you!”

“These are for you,” he said, handing over the bouquet he held, after a moment of building up courage. She smiled and reached out for the flowers. In a bold moment, his heart overthrowing his mind once more, Colonel Brandon took her hand before it reached the bouquet and pressed it against his lips. Almost instantly, he regretted it, fearing he had been too bold and would upset her, or scare her away from him. He was relieved to see her smiling and blushing. He handed her the flowers and she thanked him. She lifted them to her nose to smell them.

Mrs. Dashwood appeared in the hallway and welcomed Colonel Brandon. They exchanged the usual pleasantries and upon seeing the flowers in her daughter’s hand, Mrs.Dashwood smiled. Mary-anne asked her mother to put the flowers in a vase, and while Mrs. Dashwood went to the kitchen, Mary-anne escorted Colonel Brandon to the parlor. Mrs. Dashwood returned and handed her daughter the vase, and Mary-anne placed it on the pianoforte with a smile. She then sat down, joining her mother and the Colonel in conversation.

After a while, Mrs. Dashwood excused herself, a very well thought out plan to help Colonel Brandon’s cause, as usual, and sat outside with her sewing, to watch Margaret as she played and wait for Elinor and Mr. Ferrars to return from their walk.

“Colonel Brandon, I thought we might continue to practice that duet. I hope you remembered to bring it.”

“I did,” he smiled, pleased that she took real interest in playing with him.

Mary-anne pulled two chairs up to the pianoforte and opened it. The flowers he brought sat on top of the piano, behind the support for sheet music.

They sat down. Colonel Brandon took out the duet and placed it in front of them. They began to review what they had learned two days prior. Though they were not sitting as closely as they were on his Broadwood Grand, for it had its own bench while there they sat on separate chairs, their arms and legs still brushed against each others, and occasionally their hands did so too. Colonel Brandon felt his heart beat faster every time he felt her touch. He longed for it, and the thought took his mind almost completely, so much so that he did not play as well as he was capable of. In the spirit of being bolder, he moved his knee to touch hers, expecting her to retreat instantly. However, she did not. And there they sat, knees touching, as they learned the whole duet.

The sound of her singing soothed him so that he did not notice time pass by, and soon Barton Cottage was filled with its inhabitants once more. His boldness had to be controlled now, but the day’s events had installed a bit more of hope in his heart, and he feared that could be unwise.  
Chapter 10: French  
Chapter Text

Colonel Brandon arrived at the Cottage. He expected to be met by Mary-anne sitting outside with a book ready in hand, which had been the case lately. Instead, he was met by Mrs. Dashwood and lead into the dining room, where Mary-anne sat with some books on the table.

It was a hectic household of late, with Miss Dashwood’s and Mr. Ferrars’ wedding plans and Mr. Ferrars’ staying with them, since the house in Delaford meant for him and his future wife was not yet ready. He stayed out of insistence of Mrs. Dashwood’s part, for Colonel Brandon had offered him a room at Delaford manor. Miss Dashwood also did not like the idea of having her betrothed so far away, even though the Colonel rode out almost every day and would have been happy to ride with Mr. Ferrars.

Mary-anne Dashwood was sitting over her books, reading, writing, and did not perceive the Colonel’s presence. He watched her for a few moments, how concentrated and beautiful she looked, wishing he could bend over her and kiss her head, imagining how she would look up at him and then he could kiss her lips. He snapped out of his reverie and cleared his throat so he would be noticed. She turned around.

“Colonel Brandon!” she smiled.

He came bearing gifts, as he usually had of late, particularly since she expressed she had missed him. It was a promise he had made to himself, to be a little more obvious in his pursuits and his courting. This time, he brought her a box of chocolates.

“These are for you, Miss Mary-anne.” He handed them over.

“Oh, Colonel, thank you! You do know that you do not need to bring something every time you come to visit? Your friendship is more than enough.”

“But I enjoy bringing you gifts. Let an old man have some joy.” He smiled.

She reached out to take the box and he pulled it back from her reach. She seemed confused, but not long after, he took her outstretched hand in his and bowed down to kiss it. She blushed red as he placed the box of chocolates in her hand.

“I thought perhaps today, Colonel, instead of reading or practicing duets on the pianoforte, you could help me a bit with my French. I was a terrible student and now I wish to learn it properly. At least attempt to. And I do remember you saying something about being fluent in it.”

“I might have declared I know some French, but being fluent sounds like an exaggeration Mrs. Jennings would make.”

“Mrs. Jennings has yet to be wrong about a compliment she has paid you,” she smiled.

“Very well,” he said, not resisting her smile, “let us see if I can be helpful in any way.”

They sat down at the table, next to each other, but at a safe, proper distance.

“I found a poem, Colonel, that I would like you to read to me, so I can hear how certain words are properly pronounced. If it’s not too much trouble.”

She opened a book and flipped through some pages. When she found the right one, she handed it to him. He blushed at the sight of the poem. He knew it. He proceeded to read it.

 

Amour me tue, et si je ne veux dire

Le plaisant mal que ce m’est de mourir :

Tant j’ai grand peur, qu’on veuille secourir

Le mal, par qui doucement je soupire.

 

Il est bein vrai, que ma langueur désire

Qu’avec le temps je me puisse guérir :

Mais je ne veu ma dame requérir

Pour ma santé : tant me plaît mon martyre.

 

Tais-toi langueur je sens venir le jour,

Que ma maîtresse, aprés si long séjour,

Voyant le soin qui ronge ma pensée,

 

Toute nuit, folâtrement m’ayant

Entre ses bras, prodigue, ira payant

Les intérets de ma peine avancée.*

 

His sweet voice caught her attention and she could hear nothing else, nothing from the chaos that was the Dashwood household. Though she did not understand every word, she could feel what he was saying, and in her heart understood the intent of the poem.

She lingered for a moment with her eyes still closed after he had finished reading. When she woke from her reverie, he was admiring her, looking at her fixedly, and soon broke his gaze in embarrassment. He had just read his feelings, yet again, whether she realized it or not.

“Well then, I guess I should try and see if my pronunciation is acceptable.”

She began to read and at first, he listened attentively to correct any mistakes she made. But soon, he got lost in her voice, the words, and had some reveries of his own.

“How was I?” The sudden change in language brought him back.

“That was perfect.”

“Colonel, I doubt that was perfect. Be truthful!”

“Well, perhaps you could improve your pronunciation of the letter u. Like in tue.”

She tried to repeat the word but it did not sound the same.

“Tue” he said again. And again she failed.

He smiled. “You must pout a bit, as if…” he was reaching out to gently squeeze her cheeks, but he stopped himself.

“As if?” she asked.

“As if you were about to be kissed.” He blushed.

She repeated the word and it came out perfectly.

“That is it,” he smiled.

“Now, Colonel, I did understand the general idea of the poem, but I would love it if you could… translate it for me?” She smiled timidly.

“Right now? Translating a poem takes time. I cannot just… translate it literally here, now. It would lose its charm.”

She smiled and handed him a quill and a paper. She was so glad he respected great works of art as she did. Oh how wrong she had been about him before!

“Colonel, I have nowhere to be. If you are not in a hurry to be somewhere, you can take as long as you like. And it need not be perfect; I just wish to understand it fully.” She smiled as if she were begging with her eyes. In a hurry to be somewhere. The only place he would rather be than right there was closer to her, in her arms. He took the quill and the paper and began.

While he was working, she opened the box of chocolates and ate one. She gave a little moan, indicating it was to her liking, and it disconcerted him a little. He looked up smiling, glad she liked the chocolates he had brought and she offered him one. “They are delicious,” she said. He took one. “They are.” She giggled, he chuckled.

Translating the poem did not take as long as he had anticipated. Her presence inspired him. When he showed her his complete work, she asked him to read it out to her.

“You have such a nice voice, Colonel.”

He happily obliged.

 

Love is slaying me, but even so I don’t want to say

How pleasant an evil it is for me to die,

So much I fear that someone might try to save me

From the sweet torture under which I sigh.

 

It is indeed true that my pining still hopes

That I may be cured with time:

But I don’t want my Lady to ask after

My health; my suffering is too divine.

 

Be quiet, my pining! I feel the day is coming

When my mistress, after so long a time,

Will see the care which gnaws away at my thoughts 

 

And, for a whole night, madly lavishing herself

On me, within her arms, will pay

The interest on my borrowed pain. **

“That is beautiful. Mrs. Jennings will have to add ‘superb translator’ to your list of qualities.” She smiled and he blushed, giving one of his timid smiles.

Margaret came in suddenly.

“Hello, Colonel Brandon!”

“Captain Margaret,” he bowed his head lightly.

“What are you doing?”

“The Colonel is helping me with my French, Margaret.”

“I need help with my French as well!”

Mary-anne and the Colonel laughed. While Margaret sat down with her books, the piece of paper on which the Colonel translated the poem was forgotten on the table. Mary-anne took it and saved it in one of her books.

Chapter 11: Wedding Bells  
Chapter Text

Colonel Brandon could see her clear as day. Mary-anne was walking down the aisle, a white dress made of lace with long sleeves. It had golden details which highlighted the color of her hair. On her perfectly arranged curls, a diamond tiara which held her veil in place, and behind her, a train that seemed to go on for miles.

On her face was a smile that made his knees weak and his heart ache with sheer joy. That smile was for him. It was because of him. He could wish for nothing more. She looked like an angel, floating down the aisle. An angel sent from above; to cure his heart of all its sorrows, fill his life with joy, save him from loneliness and despair. His angel.

She was at the altar, beside him. The priest had them face each other, and they joined hands, his stomach churning at the rush of excitement her touch provided, his heart melting in the warmth of her smile and her gaze. They exchanged vows of eternal love and companionship; his heart beat at his throat, making it hard for him to speak. Not that it would make any difference, for no amount of words in the English language, or any language for that matter, could express the extent of his undying love, and anything he said would not be suitable enough.

He heard the words “I will” come out of her lips, in her soft, angelical voice and he knew it was done. She was his and he was hers, though he had already been wholly hers from the moment he laid eyes on her all those months ago. They kissed to bind the contract, and he fought with restraint to keep the kiss gentle and acceptable to other’s eyes, for all the love he felt and could not properly express wished to come forward in that kiss and make it a passionate and breathtaking one. Her lips were as soft and sweet as he had always imagined.

He heard church bells and felt her hand squeeze his arm, and he awoke from his reverie.

It was Elinor’s and Edward’s wedding. The Colonel’s friendship to the Dashwoods and his growing friendship towards Edward, who was heading the Parish at Delaford, earned him an invite to be a groomsman. Fate would have it that he was to usher Miss Mary-anne, a bridesmaid to her sister, down the aisle. It was time for them to proceed.

They were walking towards the altar. Her hand on his arm, his heart beating fast. Every surrounding face was smiling at them. He wore his army uniform, she held a bouquet. She was smiling. She seemed very happy. That made him happy.

As they walked down the aisle, he imagined what it would be like to do so in another capacity; as husband and wife, leaving the church to start their lives together. Like the day dream he had just had. He wondered if that could ever happen, if she would be smiling like she was now, like she was moments before, in his mind’s eye. Her smile lit up the whole church, and it warmed his heart. She was truly happy for her sister.

As they took their place and watched the aisle, waiting for the bride, he saw how Edward smiled nervously, anxiously awaiting to see Elinor, and oddly, he could relate. When she walked in, a calmness seemed to overcome Edward, and Colonel Brandon could imagine how he felt there also.

Colonel Brandon and Mary-anne sat very closely together as the ceremony went on, and he took in every moment of it. He didn’t remember ever feeling so much of her body pressed against his. Blessed be how small the pews were. Thank heavens for small mercies. He had to restrain himself from looking at her too often, too fixedly. Someone might notice. But she was so beautiful, and her hair smelled divine. He wished to drown himself in it. He looked back at the altar, at the bride and groom. While he was doing so, he caught, through the corner of his eye, Mary-anne looking up at him for a while, and smiling. He wondered if there was something wrong with his appearance.

Church bells rang again, and it was over. Mr. and Mrs. Ferrars were walking out of the church, and all stood up. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were required to follow. Mary-anne put her hand trough his arm once more.

“Shall we?” she asked with a smile.

Yes, we shall. May God allow it he thought, but only smiled back, that shy, small smile of his, and escorted her down the aisle.

Chapter 12: Half-truths  
Chapter Text

It had been a little over a week since Elinor’s wedding. The Dashwoods had not seen the eldest sister since, for obvious reasons, but Colonel Brandon had not been heard of as well.

It was a midsummer’s day, very pleasant out, and Sir John and Mrs. Jennings had invited Mrs. Dashwood, Mary-anne, and Margaret to dine at the Park and spend the day. It had been long indeed since they had gone, due to the wedding preparations and the consequential havoc at the cottage, but now the Dashwoods had no excuses.

Sir John sent the carriage for them, and up to the Park they rode. After only being there for a few minutes, Mrs. Jennings recalled some mail had come for them earlier, and she had not bothered sending a servant to deliver them, since the recipients were to come anyway. She hurried to retrieve their mail.

This was nothing extraordinary, since most of their mail always did go through Barton Park first. What was out of the ordinary was the fact that there was a letter from Elinor. Mary-anne, eager to have news from her sister – or perhaps, if she were to be honest with herself, news from Delaford in general – opened it right away. She was surprised to see it was dated from five days past. The post had been delayed for some reason.

The letter stated that since they did not have the means to make a wedding trip, the Ferrars had spent the most wonderful week at their new home, and Colonel Brandon was kind enough to give Edward another week to get established before commencing his duties at the Parish. In light of this, they had decided to go to Barton and spend three or four days, seeing as after Edward took up his duties, it would be difficult for them to travel, and they would probably only be able to see their family whenever the Dashwoods could go to Delaford and visit. Elinor expected they would arrive on Tuesday, which was precisely the day Mary-anne was reading this letter. Colonel Brandon had lent them a carriage and they would leave early in the morning, being able to arrive at around midday.

Mary-anne was very excited at the prospect, announcing this to her mother and all of the party. She was determined to go back to Barton Cottage and wait for them, promising to bring them up as soon as they arrived. She refused to take the carriage back to the Cottage, for it was a pleasant day for a walk. And besides, the Ferrars would arrive in a carriage of their own which could bring her back, seeing as it would have to be left at the Park anyway.

Out she went. She started walking, but soon her pace was hastened, and she found herself running, excited and longing to meet them soon. She told herself this was solely because she missed her sister dearly, but that was not the whole truth. She missed Colonel Brandon as well, and hoped maybe he was to accompany the Ferrars to Barton. She hoped the “we” Elinor wrote of did not comprise only her and her husband.

As she scampered across the fields, she silently wondered why the Colonel had not called since the wedding. He had no business trip to make, at least none he made known to her, which he usually did. She searched in her mind for some instance in which she might have been rude to him, during the wedding or the celebration afterwards. It was very like her to be disagreeable and not notice, though she had been consciously trying to change that since her illness. Perhaps he had simply grown tired of her. She was no longer ill, and hadn’t been for quite some time now. Thus, there was no need for him to show so much friendship towards her family and sit with her for so long. Suffer her for so long. She could read for herself, and walk fine on her own. She hadn’t felt dizziness or faintness, so she no longer needed someone to escort her. But she quite enjoyed having him read to her and walk with her, and she had perceived his attentions to have grown lately, not fade away… Perhaps, though, it was all in her mind. Wishful thinking.

She hurried along the green fields, her heart thumping with the exertion, but also with the prospect of seeing the Colonel after such a period of absence. However, to this last feeling, she did not submit. Nor did she completely acknowledge it. 

She arrived at the cottage winded, and immediately asked Betsy if no one had called, if Elinor had not arrived. Betsy’s negative made her walk back outside and lean on the fence, still trying to catch her breath. She watched the road which one coming from Delaford would take. The road that had led Colonel Brandon on horseback to her so many times. This is why she was taken by surprise when a voice called softly from behind.

“Miss Dashwood.”

It was a familiar voice. She turned and the wind was knocked from her once more. It was Colonel Brandon, on his horse, smiling his timid, restrained smile down at her. He nodded and tipped his hat, always so chivalrous.

“Colonel Brandon!” She smiled. “I was waiting for my sister and brother to arrive. I did not know we could expect the pleasure of your company as well.”

Though I had hoped it.

He had come on his own horse to give the newlywed couple some privacy in the carriage, and also because his stay would not be as lengthy as theirs.

“We have just arrived. Your sister is at the Park with her husband as we speak. I spotted you running the fields and took it upon myself to come warn you.”

She blushed at the thought of him watching her run as if she were mad. He had rather enjoyed the sight, thinking her spirit and vivacity were two of the many qualities which made him love her. A force to be reckoned with.

“Shall we head back?” He asked smiling, while he held the reins of his horse.

“I must confess I am still a bit winded from the walk down. I must take a few minutes before I can make the walk back.”

“If you wish to, you may ride back with me. It might be a bit… uncomfortable, with two on the saddle, but it shan’t take long. And it will save you the extra exertion.”

He stretched down his gloved hand.

After a very brief moment’s hesitation, she took his hand as she said “Thank you.”

He let his hand slide further up her arm, so his grip could be more secure. She was not sure what he was doing and, at his touch gliding over her arm, her body quivered with reluctance. And perhaps something more. With a firm grip on her arm, he proceeded to pull her up to the horse, and he sat her in front of him, for ridding sidesaddle behind him would be quite unsafe.

She was astonished at his strength, being able to pull her up with only one arm, and was embarrassed – yet excited – by his closeness. He held the reins with his arms on either side of her, one supporting the half of her back which was not slightly touching his torso, the other in front of her, forming a sort of respectful embrace. She avoided eye contact so he would not notice how furiously she blushed, and her hands rested on her lap.

“Miss Mary-anne,” he let her Christian name slip, but did not correct himself. “You should…try to hold on as best you can, for I will make some haste so that you are not kept from your sister much longer,” he said rather nervously.

She could feel his breath as the words came out of his lips. As her name slipped his lips. That, along with his tender voice so close to her ear made her hairs stand on end. She paid no heed to what her body was telling her, and attributed the shiver to a breeze, thought it was a warm summer’s day.

There was nowhere to hold on to. Only him. Shyly, she put her arms around his waist, still trying to avoid eye contact, but now her body leaned fully against his. She grew hotter, and her cheeks were so crimson they might permanently be burned this way.

He nudged the horse into movement and soon it was in a mild gallop. His heart thumped in his chest as hard and as frequently as the hooves hit the ground. He did not go faster, he said, for fear of her falling off. A half-truth. He secretly wished for this to last as long as possible, for she was in his arms. If he could find an excuse to go slower still… perhaps he could say the horse was tired. It had ridden from Delaford.

Her head rested on his shoulder and he could feel her breath close to his neck. He had the slight impression she breathed heavily, and he wondered if it was excitement or nerves. He wished to let go of the reins and wrap his arms around her. And for the first time in his life, he feared he would not be master of himself and that his body would betray his feelings, his excitement, leaving him in an awkward and delicate situation.

But they soon arrived. She let go of him as soon as the horse slowed down, much to his displeasure, and he lend her a hand as she slipped down from the horse. Elinor came out as Mary-anne was still arranging her dress. She looked up at the Colonel, still blushing, and expressed her gratitude with a smile as she untied her bonnet. He only nodded, and moved to dismount the horse himself, so the stable hand could take it to rest. When he turned, the sisters were already inside.

 

********

 

Mary-anne got every bit of information she could from her sister, but her attentions needed to be shared with the whole of the party, and Mrs. Jennings especially was full of questions and gossip, as usual. Mary-anne was not upset, however, for the Ferrars were to sleep at the Cottage, and there would be plenty of time to talk during the next few days. Colonel Brandon, however, would not stay as long and would not stay as close. And she missed his company just as much as her sister’s, maybe even more. But this time, for some inexplicable reason, she did not feel so brave and bold as to proclaim it. She did not understand why. It was an innocent feeling, really, one often felt among friends. Was it not?

He sat across from her while they all chatted, but kept to himself, since most of the conversation was about how the Ferrars were adapting to Delaford, and many compliments were being made to his estate. Mary-anne heard the description of her sister’s new home and its surroundings with a smile on her face, uniting what she heard with what she had seen when she visited Delaford, slowly completing her mental picture.

Colonel Brandon wished to be closer to Mary-anne, but feared he would intrude in much wanted time with her sister. She wanted to converse privately with him, as she had in his previous visits, but she still was slightly embarrassed due to their closeness earlier. And still intrigued as to why he had not come to visit in such a long time. She might have been the reason, though she could not for the life of her remember being rude or doing something she mustn’t.

She went to the pianoforte. She had the liberty of doing so when the party was so small, for she knew no one else would provide them with music. Most were unable, one was unwilling. She went to it in hopes of calling his attention to her, for he often enjoyed listening to her play, as she recently found she enjoyed listening to him.

She began a piece, and as expected, no one paid her any mind, as they continued in earnest conversation. He, however, shifted his attention from the conversation and fixed his eyes on her, as he listened attentively to her song. His elbow rested on the arm of the sofa on which he sat, and his chin rested on his hand. She looked up and saw her objective had been achieved, and built up the courage to smile at him. As he watched her attentively, he smiled back, timidly. The song ended and she went into another, and he got up and took a seat closer to the pianoforte, for the conversation was loud and hindering him from listening properly to her playing.

She wished him to be closer still, so before she started yet another song, she called to him.

“Colonel Brandon,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear, but not to arouse the curiosity of the rest of the party. He, who had been listening to her play with his eyes closed, opened them and went to her.

“Can I persuade you to play a song?” She asked.

“Oh no no, Miss Dashwood. The instrument is in much better hands as it is.”

“You are very modest, Colonel” He only smiled and shook his head. “Why do you not venture to play for more people than only myself? You are a very talented player. I would much like to hear you. It has been some time.” She wished for some explanation as to why he hadn’t called sooner, but could not bring herself to ask directly.

“If you will have me call on you tomorrow before I leave for Delaford, I will happily play something for you. But not right now.” He looked at the group, busy in conversation.

She was happy to verify that he wished to call on her still and that nothing seemed to be amiss between them.

“They won’t even know you are playing. They have no proper regard for music,” she said, with a little contempt.

“Still, I much rather hear you play.” He smiled.

“Then would you be so kind as to turn the pages for me?” It was a way for him to stay closer to her.

“Gladly,” he answered.

He was still agitated because of the closeness of the ride earlier, though he could conceal it well. He had built up half the courage he needed to pour his heart out. He could not bring himself to, though, and would probably not have the chance this evening. But he very much wished to tell her how much he loved her. However, the fact that their closeness did not seem to affect her and the friendly manner in which she treated him gave him doubts. He still could not see if she acted in such a way because she only regarded him as a dear friend – something he did not wish to lose – and therefore their closeness did not bother her, or if she had grown fonder of him of late. As he could not convince himself to declare his feelings, he sat and turned the pages for her as he watched her fingers touch the keys and wished to take her hand in his. She sat and played while she suppressed what she felt, though with not as much success as she had been doing for these last few months.

 

Chapter 13: The Storm  
Chapter Text

On the following day, as agreed upon, the Colonel called on the Dashwoods before journeying back to Delaford. It was a nice warm day. The skies were blue. A great day for a walk. Certainly Mary-anne Dashwood would not waste it cooped up in her house. So she asked Colonel Brandon to escort her.

They walked and talked, so immersed in each other, yet so unknowing of the other’s feelings – and even their own – that time went by rather quickly and they did not notice. They found themselves in a location they had never explored before, for none of their walks had been quite as lengthy as this one. They looked up and saw that the clear day had turned into a gray one, and the blue skies were now heavy with clouds pregnant with rain that would burst at any moment.

“We should head back, Miss Dashwood. We wouldn’t want you to get caught in the rain again.”

“Yes,” she gave a shy, ashamed smile. “Mama would be worried.”

They attempted to find their way back quickly, but nature did not care for their worries. The heavy rain started to fall when they were still a long way from Barton Cottage. Fortunately, there was an abandoned structure nearby. It seemed Sir John had begun a project on his estate and never got around to finishing it. Perhaps it was to be another cottage, though it did seem too small. Colonel Brandon quickly took off his coat and held it open over their heads, more hers than his, as they ran for shelter.

They had gotten a bit wet, but it was of no consequence compared to what could have been due to the storm that fell outside. He noticed Miss Dashwood had gotten pale and was slightly chilly. Without a word, he placed his coat over her shoulders. She looked at him appreciatively. The coat had gotten wet on the outside due to its usage for cover, but the inside was still dry, for it was a good, thick coat.

Lightning struck somewhere not far, and Mary-anne, startled by the loud noise of thunder, stepped closer to Colonel Brandon, placing a cheek and her opposite hand on his chest, in a sort of embrace. As a reaction, though a bit delayed due to his surprise, the Colonel put an arm around her shoulders.

Mary-anne enjoyed the feel of him, of his embrace. She felt calm, safe. It was as if time stopped for a moment. But she mustn’t do such things, it was not proper. Colonel Brandon was about to rest his chin on her head and give in completely to the embrace when she pulled away.

“Forgive me, Colonel,” she said, not looking directly at him and with some color returning to her cheeks. The Colonel said nothing, his hands finding their way to his back and holding one another in place there.

The bright day, fit for a walk, had become so dark with the heavy clouds which filled the sky that it looked like nighttime. The situation was not made better by the fact they were in some sort of shed, with no candlelight.

Mary-anne found a place to sit. As she did, she pulled his coat into place on her back, making it cozier. She could smell his cologne on it, that same delicious smell she had felt moments ago much stronger, on his skin. She cupped her hands together, breathing hot air into them, trying to make them warm.

In an impulse, Colonel Brandon sat beside her and took her hands in between his. This time, there was no thunder outside, but it was as if a jolt of electricity ran through their bodies. They both flushed red, and suddenly Mary-anne felt warm around her neck and on her face. It didn’t even seem like she had gotten wet with rain. At the same time, her hands went colder as her heart sank to the pit of her stomach.

The Colonel gently rubbed her hands with his to warm them, and blew his hot breath into them, not aware of anything else. When he came to his senses, he realized how bold he had been, and feared his efforts would be unwelcomed. But then he realized they had been going on long enough for her to pull away, if she so desired, and she hadn’t.

The storm raged outside. As the gray heavy clouds hastily let go of their burden, light slowly came back to the day, though it was not as bright as when the day had started. As her eyes adjusted to the little light that came in through the door and window, she could notice how the Colonel’s white linen shirt, wet from the rain, stuck to his strong arms. His hair, also damp, had been pulled back by a slow slick movement of a hand, and made him appear somehow more charming.

He still caressed her hands in between his, and she did not feel the urge to stop him. Ever. She was already warm, very warm actually, and it was as if every caress sent a wave of electricity through her limbs, and they all met in her stomach, in a knot.

What was this? She had never felt quite like this before. Not even… not even with Willoughby. Not that she could remember.

“Thank you, Colonel.” She stopped it, in fear of what she was feeling.

He let go of her hands, feeling a mixture of delight that it had gone on for so long, and hurt that his touch had become a burden to her. He sat back and rested his hands on his thighs.

They remained in silence, but it was not an awkward one. It was comforting, as if they felt so at ease with each other, in some way, in the ways that propriety allowed, that even in silence they were in understanding. Even if unknowingly.

The storm started to quiet down.

“Mama must be worried sick, thinking we are walking in the rain somewhere, afraid my fever will come back,” she broke the silence.

The mention of her fever made him uneasy as his mind went back to the anguish it was to see her at death’s door.

“Are you well, Miss Dashwood? Are you warm enough?” he asked, worried.

“I am quite well, thank you,” she smiled.

One more thunder, and a startled Mary-anne quickly grabbed Colonel Brandon’s hand on his thigh and squeezed. Again that spark when they touched, but the Colonel did not react in anyway, fearing he had already been too bold for one day. He should not abuse his luck. She, as quickly as she had grabbed, let go of his hand.

“Forgive me, Colonel.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Miss Dashwood.”

She suddenly realized she missed the sound of his voice saying her Christian name, now that her sister was married and propriety demanded she be Miss Dashwood.

The rain stopped and off they went, to make their journey back to the Cottage. The ground was muddy and slippery, so the Colonel offered his arm, his strength to support her so she would not fall. They came across a rivulet. The small wooden bridge they had crossed when they were doing the opposite path had been damaged by the rain. They stood on the riverbank for a moment before the Colonel started:

“Miss Dashwood, if I may…” He leaned down a bit. “Put your arms around my neck.”

She obeyed. With one hand on her back and the other on the bend of her knees, he lifted her up with ease, and again, her stomach was in knots. She blushed, but he did not notice, for his mind was preoccupied with the worry she would feel his heart thumping hard in his chest.

He crossed the stream carrying her. While he watched the ground and his footing, she watched his face and inadvertedly smiled, just to be looking at him. She felt the urge to caress his cheek and run her fingers through his damp blond hair, but she dared not.

When they were safely on the other side, he slowly lowered her to the ground. She was thankful he did not let the arm that was around her back pull away so quickly, for her knees were weak with excitement and she needed the support.

They commenced walking once more and he lent his arm for support, for her to escape the traps of the slippery ground beneath them. She somehow felt different around him all of a sudden. It was a feeling that had been creeping on her for some time now, but she had always kept it at bay. Today it had forced itself in. She knew nothing of it, she just realized it was there right now. She did not know what it was, only that she felt excited and scared all at once, all in one big ball that moved from her stomach to her chest and to her throat.

They came up to the Cottage. Mrs. Dashwood watched through the window for them and rushed to the door upon seeing them.

“We are well, Mama,” she said, before her mother could express any concern.

“Forgive me, Mrs. Dashwood, I did not realize how far we had gone and that it was to rain. But we found shelter. I believe Miss Dashwood is in no danger.”

“Well come in and make yourselves warm. I’ll have Betsy bring out some tea”.

“I thank you for your kind invitation but I must be off. The ride will be longer with the muddy roads.”

“So soon?” Mary-anne asked, with sweet, almost undetectable despair. He smiled that contained smile he mastered and nodded once. She reluctantly took his coat off her back. She liked the smell of it. She wished to keep it with her at all times. She handed it to him. “Thank you, Colonel.”

He bowed and said his goodbyes. As he rode off, Mary-anne entered her house, pondering on the events of the day and what they meant and what it was she felt deep inside.

Chapter 14: Reflections  
Chapter Text

It hadn’t been very long – a fortnight – since Edward and Elinor had been married, and they had been constant guests for dinner at Delaford manor ever since, a kindness of Colonel Brandon’s part in an attempt to make their newly changed lives a bit easier and more comfortable. Mr. Ferrars and Colonel Brandon had begun to develop a friendship from the time he and the former Miss Dashwood became engaged, a friendship which grew in the following weeks. They had to deal with business concerning the Parish and the house that was to be the Ferrars home, so they spent much time conversing and getting to know one another. Even when they were not tending to such matters, they were always around each other, for Colonel Brandon visited Mary-anne at Barton Cottage often, and Edward practically lived there up until the wedding, spending only a few nights away at Delaford. Of course Colonel Brandon’s friendship to Mrs. Ferrars began well before that. So the Colonel was delighted to have them over for dinner, and was very thankful for the company. He had eaten alone far too many times in his life.

Due to this, it was not a strange sight when, one late afternoon, Edward Ferrars approached Delaford manor. Colonel Brandon was on his front lawn, a pack of about eight dogs – his dogs, used for hunting and also for company – surrounding him while one of them tried to wrestle a stick out of his hand. He laughed and threw the stick far, the pack running off after it. He saw Edward coming up to him and figured it was a bit early for dinner, but they could always have a drink first. He thought it strange, though, that Elinor was not with him.

“Brandon!” Edward greeted him, a little nervously.

“Edward! Let us go inside. It is a bit early for dinner, but nothing stops us from having a drink first. I just need to wash up. Will Mrs. Ferrars not be joining us this evening?”

Edward stooped walking, his nervousness becoming more evident. Colonel Brandon became worried.

“Ah, yes, well, Elinor went to Barton early this morning, and since it is getting to be a bit late for her to journey back alone, she sent word that she will be staying the night there and will return tomorrow morning.”

“She went to Barton? Is something the matter?”

“It appears that Miss Dashwood collapsed this past night, so Elinor is there to visit her sister.”

Colonel Brandon’s eyes widened as his heart sank to his stomach. For a brief moment, his legs felt weak, as if he were to collapse himself. He remembered that only a few days prior, in one of their walks, they had been caught in a storm. That was probably the reason for Mary-anne’s illness.

“Mary-anne is ill? I must go to her, immediately.” He started towards the stables, in a hurried step. Edward had to run to catch his arm.

“Brandon, calm down. There is no need to go there now, mate. She is well.”

“Of course I must, she is ill, you said so yourself.”

“In the letter I’ve received just now, Elinor explains that Miss Dashwood was only weak from not eating properly, that is why she collapsed. She hasn’t had much of an appetite these past couple of days. But now she has been fed and has rested and is good as new. I even brought the letter, in case you do not believe me,” Edward said, trying to put the Colonel’s worries to rest.

“She hasn’t eaten? Why?”

“Apparently she has had something weighing on her mind. Elinor has not kept me up to speed with their sisterly conversations.”

“I must go all the same, she might need something.”

“Aren’t you to go there tomorrow? You can see her then. No need to rush over in the dark. Besides, her mother and sisters are there, and they did call a doctor. She is well.”

The slight insinuation that she had her family and therefore would not need him hurt Colonel Brandon. But he could not fault Edward. It was true. He was nothing to her. He was not needed. He might not even be wanted there at such a time. Colonel Brandon became grave and thoughtful. He was still worried for Mary-anne, despite his friend’s attempts to calm him. He also felt desperation, for he always longed for her, but moments like these made him feel a deeper need to embrace her, to protect her. But would she want that now? Would she ever?

“You really do love her, don’t you?” Edward asked, cutting off Colonel Brandon’s thoughts.

“I… what do you…” Colonel Brandon didn’t even have the strength to deny it any longer. He loved her so deeply and intensely, he wanted to shout it from the rooftops. He had never known love like this before, not in his own experience nor what he could observe from other’s. And he needed to keep it all inside, hide it from the world at all times. It was exhausting. But Edward was a friend. He could trust him. Maybe if he said it once, admitted to it, even if it wasn’t to her, he would feel some kind of relief.

“Am I so transparent? Is it so obvious?”

“To most people with eyes, yes,” Edward said. Colonel Brandon chuckled. “Though I had not noticed how deep your feelings were until just now. When I said she was ill. It was written all over your countenance. I had never seen that expression on any man’s face before.”

“I never knew one could feel so strongly about someone in this world, it is true.”

“Then you must tell her. I believe she is one of those few people with eyes who do not see it. Or refuse to, for some reason.”

“I cannot. The thought of losing her friendship, of not being part of her life in any way… I could not bear it.”

“And why would it come to that?”

“She wouldn’t want to maintain our friendship when she doesn’t feel the same way towards me.”

“How do you know that to be true if you have never told her?”

“I am much older than her. Not as charming as…as the type that seems to peak her interest. And she has stated on more than one occasion that she does not believe in second attachments.”

“Can you really live your life wondering if you are right, wondering what could have been?”

Colonel Brandon pondered for a moment. It was a new aspect, a new form of pain he had not considered. “Logic does not seem to be on my side.”

“Since when is love logical, Brandon old man? I, for one, went to Elinor to declare my love expecting nothing in return. I had deceived her, though not willingly and only out of awkwardness from my part. And what’s more, I thought you had been courting her, so I would clearly lose there.” Colonel Brandon was surprised to know that Edward had thought his interest lied with the eldest of the Daswood sisters. “I just wished to unburden my heart and hoped she could forgive me. But fate had reserved me a surprise. I think you might have a surprise yourself.”

Colonel Brandon reflected upon that.

“Now, I do believe some drinks were offered?” Edward said, walking towards the house.

Chapter 15: Sisterly Advice  
Chapter Text

Mary-anne Dashwood sat on a bench beneath the window, staring out her bedroom window at the trees that danced in the gentle breeze outside. Her eyes were not focused on anything in particular, and she held her knees under her chin, gently rocking herself.

Elinor sat on her bed and attempted to have a conversation with her, but it was fruitless. Even though Elinor had only been married for almost two weeks and had already been to Barton to visit, she took the day to visit her mother and sisters, especially because Mary-anne hadn’t been feeling well.

“Mary-anne, darling, I’m feeling a bit lonely here.”

Mary-anne awoke from her daze.“Forgive me, Elinor. What were you saying?”

“Never mind that. You seem to be preoccupied. Is there something you would like to talk about?”

“No, I am alright.”

“I can see you are not! I will worry about you. Pray, talk to me, dearest.”

“How could I if I don’t understand it myself?” Mary-anne had despair in her eyes. Elinor’s concern grew. “I… I have been… feeling differently lately. About Colonel Brandon. Around him. I think it is about him, I am not sure.”

“Oh, I see.” Elinor held her smile. “Different how, dear?”

“I don’t know, I can’t explain it. I feel knots in my stomach, and my hands turn cold, but at the same time I feel flushed and hot. It’s like I’m scared of something. But I also feel calm and safe around him. It’s all very confusing. I must be getting sick again. The fever, it is coming back.”

Elinor chuckled as she moved next to her and brushed a curl off her face.

“Dearest! You know, I am not the most qualified person to analyze this, for as you so often point out to me, I am too contained in my emotions, but I do believe that what you’ve described is the rush one gets when in love.”

“No! It can’t be. It is nothing like what I felt with Willoughby. It was never this despairing. No, it is not love.”

Elinor just watched her. If she wouldn’t accept she was in love for herself, Elinor could not push her to see. Though she could point out all the time they spent together and how Mary-anne clearly missed him when he was not to pay a visit, she knew how stubborn her sister could be. She would find excuses and push herself further away from the truth. Mary-anne would have to see the light on her own.

“Besides, what would it say about me, being in love again? And so soon! Love does not copy itself as such. One can’t get over one’s true and first love so quickly and form a second attachment. Not a true, meaningful one. And I have vowed to not take interest in such things again. I am to dedicate myself to my studies, and to taking care of Mama now that you are gone.”

“Mary-anne, in my humble opinion, it would only make you a sane person. Getting over something – someone – who hurt you deeply and moving on. To something better. It is natural and expected.” She hoped her sister would let the hint sink in.

“Oh, Elinor, I would only be setting myself up for regret again. And this time I would have no one to blame but myself. Colonel Brandon would never be interested in a foolish girl like me.”

Elinor smiled at her sister’s lack of perception. “Dearest, the man has been in love with you from the moment he laid eyes on you! You are only a fool for not noticing it.”

“Elinor! You’ve let Mrs. Jennings insinuations go up to your head.”

“I assure you she bases her insinuations on something. They are not formed out of thin air.”

“No, Colonel Brandon is merely a friend. And he is probably more your friend than mine.”

“Oh yes, dearest, it is due to his friendship towards me that he takes so much time off his schedule and duties at Delaford and other business to come and sit with you, read to you even though you are very well now and can read for yourself, and takes you on long walks and on rides. It is also because he is such a good friend that he has brought you flowers almost every day.” She looked around Mary-anne’s room, which had no place for another vase. She didn’t even think there were anymore vases in the house. She was amused to see that many of the flowers had withered already, still Mary-anne refused to get rid of them. “And he even bought you a pianoforte! When have you ever known such a good friend? Colonel Brandon is a great man and a valuable friend to have, but I do not see him treating Sir John with this much courtesy.” Elinor laughed. “And he has been his friend for much longer than any of us.”

Mary-anne looked at her, puzzled. “Do you really think so?”

“My goodness, that fever must have made you blind. Dearest, I know so. You might never have noticed, but I saw the pain in his eyes when he saw you with Willoughby. That was the pain of someone in love. He loves you, I’m sure.”

Mary-anne’s eyes filled with tears. When she couldn’t hold them any longer, they ran down her face like raindrops on the window pane on a stormy night.

“Oh Elinor! I never meant to cause him any pain,” she sobbed.

“I know dearest. He must know too.” Elinor wiped away some of the tears and was amused to find that Mary-anne pulled a handkerchief out to dry her tears. It was Colonel Brandon’s. Mary-anne must catch on soon, she thought.

“If that is true, Elinor, it is only the more reason for him to have no more interest.”

“I think you’ll find love can be more forgiving than that.” There was nothing else Elinor could say. Mary-anne would either see it or wouldn’t. Elinor hoped for Mary-anne’s sake and the Colonel’s that she would.

“He is to come tomorrow. I think I must talk to him. I need to not feel this despair any longer.”

“And what will you do if he declares his feelings?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Oh dearest, if you are to reject the poor Colonel, pray, just let it be. Don’t say anything to him at all.”

“But I cannot live like this, Elinor. I must say something. I have to know.”

Chapter 16: Confessions  
Chapter Text

It was a cool afternoon, one that had promise of rain. The sun was still out, but clouds were steadily filling the skies, preparing themselves to burst as soon as they were all assembled. Colonel Brandon had arrived at Barton Cottage early, to try to make the most of the day before the rain fell, and to, of course, check to see if his beloved was indeed feeling better. Edward’s news the night before had kept him worried all night long, even though Edward had assured him all was well. Though the Colonel arrived early, he still missed Mrs. Ferrars, who had gone home to her husband earlier still. He had left home in such a hurry to be with Mary-anne that he had forgotten to go to his greenhouse and make her a bouquet. He did, however, take with him a new book they could read even if it did rain.

They sat out on the lawn, he on his little stool, she on her chair, and they began their routine. But Mary-anne was distracted that day. He noticed she watched him, but did not pay attention to his reading, and that the words slipped her mind as she was preoccupied with something else. He wondered what it was. Edward did mention she had not been well due to something weighing on her mind. He imagined it could have something to do with the weather. Mary-anne Dashwood was fond of walks in the rain. And it was how she met that scoundrel Willoughby. It was also how she caught a fever that almost killed her. Walking in the rain with a broken heart.

It was useless. She wasn’t paying him any mind. He was reading the poem he carefully selected for her to the wind. His insecurities, always creeping up on him, made him think that even though the cad was not present in their lives anymore, it appeared he still could not compete with Willoughby. He closed the book. She took notice of that, hurriedly looking up at him, eyes wide with surprise.

“Miss Dashwood.” Ever since her elder sister got married, propriety demanded he address her as that. He resented the slight loss of intimacy, the possibility of calling her Christian name. “It seems something is troubling you today. I do not wish to burden you further.” He got up to leave, but Mary-anne reached for his hand and held it. Her touch made his heart skip a beat, but she quickly let go, realizing the impropriety of what she had done.

“Colonel, please stay. Forgive me. Would you accompany me on a walk?”

“But Miss Dashwood, it will rain.”

“No it won’t,” she said getting up. “Not right now”. She smiled and walked off.

He trailed after her, grabbing her shawl, which fell off one shoulder, and putting it in place. Upon feeling his hand on her shoulder, she blushed and smiled at him, as if she were saying a shy ‘thank you’, while feeling those knots in her stomach which had become quite frequent during the last few days. The mere thought of him caused them. To feel his touch only amplified the sensation. They walked for a while in silence, and she always stole glances back at the cottage, as to assure herself that they weren’t being followed by Margaret. When they had gained a safe distance, she started.

“Colonel. May I… would you… help me with something?”

“Of course, Miss Dashwood, if I am able to.”

“And would you… do you promise to be honest and forthcoming with me, despite my gender and whatever cautions you think ought to be taken because of it?”

“Miss Dashwood, I have always been honest with you, I thought you might have noticed.” Colonel Brandon started to become nervous and a bit rigid, walking with his hands behind his back. What could she be getting at?

“It is true, Colonel, forgive me. It’s just… I’ve had some troubles, troubles sorting out some things I’ve been feeling.”

He remained a silent listener, walking beside her, not sure what she meant.

“Ever since… ever since I shamed myself and my family with how I acted towards Willoughby, I have tried to be… more like my sister. Not to let my emotions rule me like they once did.”

Hearing that name pour out of her sweet lips again made him feel uneasy. “Miss Dashwood, none of that was your doing. Willoughby” – he uttered the name with hate – “was ill intended, at least at first, and played his game. A game he knew how to play very well, a game he had played before.” He remembered what was done to Eliza and how Willoughby would have disgraced Miss Dashwood in the same way, if allowed, disregarding all the friendship her family offered and all the love she herself did. Love which Colonel Brandon would have cherished every day, were it ever directed at him.

“I know. And I thank goodness that he did not have the chance… that I did not have the same fate your dear Eliza had.” She looked at him with some embarrassment. He smiled, that timid smile, not baring any teeth. “But had I not been so emotional and open, it might have been… different. Maybe he would not have seen how his tricks worked on me… and… I don’t know. It just seems more prudent not to be like my nature compels me to be.”

He continued in silence, in angst of where this was leading. He was also saddened by the fact she felt she could no longer be herself completely, as he had begun to love her so many months ago. She found a large rock under a tree and sat down. He stood, for he was too nervous to sit.

“Lately I’ve been feeling… compelled to return to my old ways. I fight it back, but it is anguishing me so. I’ve been having trouble figuring out what it is I am feeling. Maybe suppressing my emotions for so long has led them to be an undecipherable mess… this is where I need your candor, Colonel.”

“Whatever I may do to help,” he said with knots in his stomach.

“I had decided to dedicate myself to my studies, devote myself to Mama, so that I would never go through what I went through again. I have successfully managed to discourage the few gentlemen who have tried to court me” – Brandon’s heart sank to his stomach – “and I was happy for it, for how could one love again after what I’ve been through? I could never be devoted, completely, to a husband after…”

Colonel Brandon was feeling so overwhelmed. He felt for her, who seemed in great distress, confused. He wished he could pick her up in his arms and make it all go away. But he also felt for him, his heart aching with the prospect of never having more than her friendship. His heart wanted him to turn and leave, but his feet did not obey. They were heavier than the rock she sat upon. He clenched his fists in anger, thinking of how many ways had Willoughby ruined his life, his hopes for happiness and how he himself had allowed his heart to hope. Had he not learned anything at all in his life?

“Throughout all of this”, she was saying when he journeyed back to her words “you have been a most wonderful friend, someone who I always felt I could be myself around, who would not judge me. Someone I can always count on.” She looked up at him.

“I am, Miss Dashwood. I am happy to be,” he managed.

“I have been… I do not know if it is just something I feel or if it is reality.” She sighed. She then took a long breath, as to build the courage to blurt it all out at once and be done with it. “Colonel, I have been under the impression of late that you have been courting me. And I do not wish to be hurt again. I do not think or in any way wish to imply that a kind gentleman such as yourself would behave as Willoughby. You wouldn’t. That I know in my heart to be true.”

Despair began to fill his heart. She had seen through him. Edward did mention it was very noticeable. She had seen through him and she was about to reject him. He began to try and master himself, so he could hold his composure in front of her as she broke his heart into a million pieces.

“I’ve had this impression, and despite all I had sworn, I seem to rather like it. But I think it might be only my imagination getting the best of me, that all you offer is friendship, for how could you wish to court me after all that happened? I have been an embarrassment to myself and my family, I treated you with such undeserved rudeness… But I’m afraid that if my confusion goes on any longer and my emotions take the best of me, I might hurt myself and you. So I need to know, Colonel, the truth. Your truth. The truth of your heart.”

At first, Colonel Brandon just stood still, looking down at her in total disbelief. Of all the things going through his mind, he certainly did not expect this to happen. Then, he finally took a breath and nerves filled his whole body. He would have to tell her how he felt. He had promised candor. But he hadn’t planned to have to do it now, like this, if he ever really would do it. And to think that perhaps she was warm to his attempts…But she was confused, she said so herself. It might lead to nothing.

He ran his hand through his hair in despair. Miss Dashwood stood up. He must have taken too long, for she said

“Colonel, forgive me for my boldness. I do hope this does not interfere with your friendship towards me, which is greatly appreciated.” She did not look him in the eyes when she said it, but at a spot on the grass next to his feet. And off she was, heading back to the cottage.

“Miss Dashwood”, he said, but she was still moving. “Mary-anne!” He let out, managing to grab hold of her hand and pull her back to him. She looked up at him startled, a tear rolling down her cheek, following the track of the one that had preceded it.

“Please, Miss Dashwood, take a seat” and he helped her back down to the rock she had sat upon. He remained standing and nervously paced from side to side, his paces restrained, to not go too far from that rock, from her.

He finally sat down next to her. He took one of her hands in his and she looked up at him, waiting for his explanations.

“Miss Dashwood. Mary-anne. My sweet Mary-anne” he said, a finger from his free hand running down her cheek, drying up the trail her tears had left. “It is true that though I have greatly enjoyed your friendship, it has been my wish, my intent, to court you. I tried at first, but those attempts were not welcome and… well, I was cast aside. Then, after all that had transpired, I thought it best to keep to myself, for I would only open myself up for heartache. But I could not keep away from you, or your family’s friendship. After a while, after you… you proclaimed to have missed me when I had been away, I thought, perhaps foolishly, I might have a chance after all. So yes, Miss Dashwood. Though my attempts were clumsy, for I have never really done this before, and I… your presence makes me feel very insecure, they were that. Attempts at wooing you. Miss Dashwood, when I first saw you I felt as if it weren’t the first time, as if I already knew you from past lives. Whenever I am close to you, my heart sings in joy. I love you, with all my heart and all my soul. I have loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you, playing the pianoforte at Barton Park and heard your angelic singing, all those months ago.”

Her eyes widened, surprised. Confused.

He couldn’t just leave now. Just say what he had said, pour his heart out and leave. Nor could he be silent awaiting a response. One cannot tell a lady he loves her and just leave it at that.

“Miss Dashwood, though I had thought, planned, to do this in another manner, it was my hope to do it eventually.” He took both her hands in his. His heart leapt in his chest. She was still looking up at him, her hands squeezing his.

“Miss Dashwood, I would be the happiest man in the world if you would do me the honor of… of marrying me.”

She gasped and took one of her hands to her lips. She still looked very confused. She looked down at her lap.

“I realize you… you need time to sort out… your feelings. I will not rush you into a decision. Forgive me, Miss Dashwood, that my clumsiness was the source of such confusion and exasperation to you.”

He stood and bowed, turning to take his leave.

She sat there absolutely stunned. She didn’t know what to expect when she started this conversation. She just wanted to learn how to deal with her feelings and stop all the confusion inside her. She certainly did not expect this. Elinor was right, he did love her, he said so himself. All these months, all those visits. He was walking away. Suddenly, for all the confusion she was feeling, a rush of emotion took over her. She knew, she just knew in her heart that she could not, she should not, let him walk away.

“Colonel Brandon!” she called out. He stopped walking but could not muster the courage to turn around.

“Miss Dashwood, you should go home. It’s going to rain.” He started walking again.

“Christopher!” Her use of his Christian name made him stop dead in his tracks. A warm flow of love filled his heart as he turned around. She was running to him, and he took her in his arms. She looked up at him, deep into his eyes, and ran her hands up from his shoulders to the back of his neck. Pulling herself closer to him, she pressed her lips against his.

His heart thudded in his chest so hard, it felt as if it were going to break through his rib cage. As his heart overflowed with love, he got bolder and pulled her closer, pressing his lips on hers more firmly, then taking her face in between his hands and doing it over and over. Warm raindrops began to fall upon them and get in between their ever touching lips. Mary-anne stepped away from him, smiling.

“It’s raining. We better run.” And off she went, laughing and pulling his hand behind her. He happily obliged, laughing himself, something none of the Colonel’s acquaintances had seen in a long while.

When they arrived at the fences of the cottage, she stopped, before anyone could see them, and kissed him once more. With her hands on the back of his neck, a feeling he so recently had discovered but already loved, rain soaking their hairs and clothes, she pulled herself up to his ear and whispered

“And Christopher, my answer is yes.”

Smiling, she ran towards the house.

**************

 

“Mary-anne! Have you learned nothing?! Going out in the rain like that. And making the poor Colonel get wet too. Yet again! Forgive my daughter’s foolishness, Colonel.”

“It’s nothing, Mama. We came back as soon as it started. We are well, isn’t that so, Colonel?”

“We are indeed,” he smiled, still not believing what had just transpired.

Mrs. Dashwood sat them down on the sofa by the fire and gave them each a blanket with which to warm themselves. 

“I’ll fetch some tea with Betsy. Honestly, Mary-anne! You must stop with these walks in the rain.”

“Oh Mama, I believe I’ve grown fonder of them.” She giggled and stole a glance at the Colonel. He smiled quite timidly.

Mrs. Dashwood didn’t fully understand what was going on, but she could only imagine and hope the Colonel’s love had finally affected Mary-anne. There could be no better match. She would be happy with him, and Mrs. Dashwood would be happy in turn, for there was no greater joy for a mother than the happiness of a child. She let them be and went to fetch some tea with Betsy.

The Colonel grazed his fingers on Mary-anne’s hand, fearing their time alone was short and any other display of affection would be seen. Mary-anne looked at him and smiled, blushing.

“Are you sure, Miss Dashwood?” he found the courage to ask.

“Miss Dashwood? I thought we were past such formalities, dear Colonel.”

Warmth filled his heart.

“Are you sure, Mary-anne?”

“I am, Christopher.” She put her hand in his, smiling all the while.

Mrs. Dashwood came back in with Betsy and the Colonel quickly let Mary-anne’s hand go.

“Here is the tea, so you can warm yourselves and not come down with something.”

As they sipped their tea, Colonel Brandon glanced at Mary-anne, yet again, as looking for reassurance. Mary-anne understood and nodded smiling.

“Margaret, do come up with me and help me into some dry clothes.” Margaret, who had been in the next room studying, went upstairs with her, thus leaving the Colonel and their mother alone, so he could ask for her permission.

Chapter 17: A Proper Proposal  
Notes:

Chapter Text

After asking for Mrs. Dashwood’s permission and securing her blessing (which in truth was already secure since the carriage ride to Cleveland), happiness was all about at the Dashwood household. Margaret jumped up and down in joy of having a wonderful man such as the Colonel for a brother while Mrs. Dashwood hugged Mary-anne and they both, wearing their hearts on their sleeves as they’d always done, sobbed happy tears in each other’s arms.

Mrs. Dashwood insisted the Colonel stay the night. Betsy had prepared supper for them, and it rained, which would make the ride back to Delaford perilous. Colonel Brandon, in turn, invited the Daswoods to Delaford, so they could give Elinor the good news in person. The Colonel wrote letters to Delaford, so arrangements could be made and a carriage sent to pick them up in the morning.

When the time came for them to go to sleep, Colonel Brandon lay in bed – Mary-anne’s bed, for she had gone to share Margaret’s as to accommodate him – and could not bring himself to fall asleep. Just the knowledge that a few doors down lay Mary-anne was enough to keep him up all night. And he was lying in her bed. The very bed that nestled her every night, something he had been wishing to do for a long time now. Moreover, he still could not believe she had really agreed to marry him. Could he be dreaming?

A note was slipped under his door.

 

Goodnight, my dear. Sweet dreams.

Mary-anne.

 

That note warmed his heart. The rest of the evening had been so busy and festive that they had not had another moment alone. They hadn’t even bid each other goodnight. He felt excited, and so awake, it was as if he were a teenage boy again. He hadn’t felt like that in a long time, ever since he left home to go to war.

He went to the desk in the room, picked up a quill and wrote on a piece of paper:

 

Goodnight, my love. I’ll be dreaming of kisses in the rain.

Forever yours,

Christopher.

 

He slipped it under her door, careful as to not awake Mrs. Dashwood or Margaret on his way down the hall, and hoping Margaret would not intercept his note.

At some point he was able to go to sleep, and when he woke up the next day, it was, to his surprise – for he usually was an early riser – to an already active household. Things moved quickly and before he knew it, they were on their way to Delaford. They sent word to Sir John and Mrs. Jennings, for it would have been rude not to, and they were to join them at the Colonel’s estate. It was due to their mutual friendship to Sir John, after all, that Colonel Brandon and Mary-anne ever met. Mary-anne was hesitant, for she wished to keep the joy all to herself and the Colonel for a while, but agreed when faced with his and her mother’s argument.

Their first stop was at the Ferrars’ house, with intentions of sharing the good news and bringing them up to the manor for the celebrations. It was killing Mary-anne that Mrs. Jennings and Sir John got the news before her dear sister, but it was better to come and tell her personally than to have sent a letter the previous day. But alas, they weren’t home. Their maid informed the travelers that Mr. Ferrars had gone on parish business and Mrs. Ferrars accompanied him, taking baked goods to some sickly parishioner in need, and that they were to be gone for better part of the day. Mary-anne was exasperated, but there was nothing to do, so they went up to the manor to enjoy lunch.

After everyone was nourished and engaged in conversation, Colonel Brandon went up to his room unnoticed. He went into his dressing room and rummaged through a drawer of his armoire for a while. He finally found what he was looking for, and sat down on an armchair in the corner with the little red box in his hand. He looked at it thoughtfully, running his fingers through his hair. When he opened it, he saw the ring that sat in the box. It had a double rose gold band with a sensible sized square diamond. It had been his mother’s wedding ring. She had left it to him upon her death when he was young. He had thought he would end up giving it to Eliza, when he dreamed of taking her as a wife, but destiny did not hold that in its cards. His time in the East Indies taught him to move on and live with the deep hurt he felt bottled up in a corner of his soul, but he had thought he would die soon in the war, and wouldn’t use his mother’s ring anyway, even if he did manage to love another someday. When he came back and learned what had happened to Eliza, he thought that maybe he could find her and finally be happy, though he had his doubts Eliza would wish do have anything to do with another Brandon again, especially since he had not fought hard enough for her. Upon finding her on her deathbed, he saw that destiny once again had dealt him a cruel hand.

He learned to believe in second attachments in time, but even though he was introduced to many formidable young ladies, he never felt the urge to pursue any of them, and he never did want a marriage for the sake of having a marriage and producing an heir. At least joining the army got him away from his father’s influence in that aspect. And all others. And since he had died, he did not have a say in it when the Colonel came back from the war either.

So Colonel Brandon learned to manage Delaford without a mistress, and was quite good at it. Better than his father or brother ever were. He did not need or want a wife. Until that day he walked into Barton Park and heard the voice and then rejoiced in the sight of an angel singing.

Now he could be truly happy, finally. At least he hoped so. He was glad his mother had left him and not his brother the ring, for now it would go to deserving hands and wouldn’t be wasted on woman after woman or sold to pay for debts. He wondered if his mother would like and approve of Mary-anne. He decided she would.

Colonel Brandon got up, closing the tiny box and placing it in his pocket. He went downstairs and asked Mary-anne if she would fancy a ride on the grounds and she readily accepted. Margaret, who did not pass up a chance to go riding, offered to go as well. Though Mrs. Dashwood did not find it necessary for them to have a chaperone, for the Colonel was a respectful gentleman, and now they had an agreement, she did not object to Margaret going, for propriety’s sake in front of others.

While the Colonel saddled Margaret’s horse, Margaret was all compliments for him.

“I am very glad you are to be my brother, Colonel. I’ve always liked you very much.”

“Why, thank you Captain Margaret,” he said with a smile. “I’ve always been very fond of you and your whole family as well. I’m very happy I can be a part of it now.”

“Can I come and visit and ride often?”

“Anytime you like,” he said, after a good hearty laugh.

“And can I choose a horse to be the one I ride every time I come?”

“Well, every great rider does have a favorite horse” he responded, still chuckling.

“I’ll have to ride them all, to pick my favorite.”

“They are all at your disposal. And they could use the exercise. I alone do not have the time to take them all out, as much as I would like. There you go, Captain, all ready to go.”

Margaret, eager as ever, climbed on with some help from the Colonel.

“I will be waiting up ahead then!” she said riding off.

“Let me know how you like that mare. Her name is Daisy, by the way.” He smiled as she rode further. He then proceeded to saddling his and Mary-anne’s horses.

When he was finished, he went to Mary-anne and placed his hands around her waist. She looked up at him smiling and he smiled back, both grateful they would have time alone together, at least in some capacity. He wanted to kiss her lips so badly, but he dared not. They were too close to the house still, and though he had not required the stable hand’s help, for the Colonel enjoyed saddling the horses himself, he was still nearby tending to the other horses. Colonel Brandon simply touched his forehead to Mary-anne’s briefly, before lifting her up to her horse.

He mounted his own horse and they rode off, catching up to Margaret. Since Margaret was ever impatient, she inquired where they were going. The Colonel did not reveal, for he did not want to ruin the surprise. Her impatience also led her to ride a little further ahead, which allowed the betrothed some privacy to converse.

“Where are we going, dear Colonel?” Mary-anne did not use his Christian name for fear Margaret would hear.

“You will be there soon enough, Miss Dashwood. Do inspect the grounds of which you are to be mistress. See what changes you would like made” he said, with a wide smile. She giggled.

“I’m sure everything is in order, sir,” she smiled. “How was it, when you inherited it? How did it feel, coming home after such a long time away?”

“It was hard. Getting used to tending to all the responsibilities that came with it. Especially since my brother did not care for them and did not perform them to the expected standard. Add to that the fact that I never much considered it home after my mother died…”

“When did you start considering it a home?”

“I probably will when I have a beautiful wife to come home to.” They both flushed red.

“But how could you live here all these years and not…”

“One gets used to it,” he said, in a sad tone.

Even though they had shared many conversations since her fever and she had gotten to know sides of him she believed not many people knew, she never quite understood why he was so closed off to the world. She now began to understand better. She guessed she would have grown to be like that, at least to some degree, if he hadn’t been there to slowly and unexpectedly mend her heart. She wanted to fully mend his too. She made a silent vow right then and there to try to make him laugh as often as possible.

They came up to a structure on top of a hill. It had stone pillars and stone benches. A trellis served as a sort of roof, with several vines and climbing plants growing on it, and yet it was all neatly trimmed.

“Colonel, this is a lovely spot!”

“It really is,” Margaret agreed, while they all dismounted.

“My mother had it built. She liked to come here because you can see all of the grounds, down to the manor on this side, and better part of the village on this side” he showed. “I thought you could have a good look at all of Delaford here.” He smiled at Mary-anne as she blushed.

“Let’s see if Elinor is home! We must tell her the good news!” Margaret said after a while, hurrying back to her horse. Mary-anne was about to follow when Colonel Brandon took her hand.

“I shall like to speak to you in private for a bit,” he said.

She smiled at him and told Margaret, who had already mounted “Margaret, do not go too far. We will join you in a moment.” She turned back to Colonel Brandon and he started:

“Mary-anne, my love. Yesterday you took me by surprise with your inquiries, and, to fulfill my promise of candor, I had to confess my love for you. And after doing so, any true, well intended gentleman could not leave without proposing some sort of arrangement, so I was forced to propose marriage to you in a way I had not imagined.”

“Are you… having second thoughts?”

“Oh no, my love!” he said taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. “Never, never. I just wish to do it properly.”

He took the ring box from his pocket, getting down on one knee before her. He opened the box and as she saw the ring inside, she gasped.

“Mary-anne Dashwood, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

Tears rolled down her face. She first could only nod her answer, but after a moment her voice came to her throat and she said “Yes, yes. Of course. A thousand times yes.”

He placed the ring on her finger and proceeded to kiss her hand, every finger, every knuckle. He got up to his feet.

“If you do not like the ring, we can get a new one. That one was my mother’s.”

“It is a lovely ring, I shall have no other.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she smiled, her tears drying up.

“Are you sure… about everything?”

“Absolutely. Why on earth should I not be? I am the most fortunate woman in all the Empire.”

“I am the one who is fortunate. I still do not understand why would a lady such as yourself take me as a husband.”

“For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move, and I am still with them and they with thee.” *

He rejoiced as she recited those lines of poetry to him. She had, after all, paid attention to that first poem he had ever read to her. He had been bold and regretted it half way through, but was relieved when he saw that in her recovery from the fever, she had returned to her slumber and the poem had fallen on deaf ears. Or so he thought.

He placed a hand on her cheek, and closed in for a kiss. At first it was a chaste kiss, like the ones they had shared the previous day, lips gently pressing against each other’s. But soon their lips interlocked, he, the more experienced, taking the lead. A heat came up from a place from which Mary-anne had never felt before and rested on her face and neck, making her milky complexion turn scarlet. She enjoyed that feeling, his lips gently sucking on hers. He soon, yet reluctantly, stopped.

“Mary-anne, my sweetheart. Would you be so kind as to bestow upon me a lock of your hair?” He ran his hand down to her neck and then up to her golden hair. She started crying again.

“Have I offended you?”

“No, no. Of course you can take a lock of my hair. I just… I just wished I had never given one to anyone else, so it could be special… like… like the kisses we share.”

He was relieved to know for certain that Willoughby had not taken advantage of her innocence in anyway. Though that would in no way change the profound love he felt for her.

“My love, that does not make it any less special or meaningful to me.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief for her. She smiled and took from her own pocket a handkerchief of his he had once offered her. His heart swelled, not the first time this day, to know she had kept it, and he smiled. He then got his pocket knife and ran his fingers on some of her curls.

“May I?”

“You may.”

He gently lifted a curl from her neck. He wished to kiss her neck, but restrained himself. His breath so close to it made the tiny hairs down Mary-anne’s back stand on end. And once again she felt that heat in places she had never felt before.

He cut off a lock of her hair and stored it in his pocket watch for safe keeping. He then took her by the waist as they began to kiss again.

It would have gone on for a while, had they not heard the hooves of a horse approaching. They quickly disentangled, both very flushed, as Margaret came into sight.

“I just saw Elinor arriving at her house. Let’s go tell her the good news!”

They smiled as they followed her to the horses, and then rode off to Elinor’s house.  
Notes:

 

Chapter 18: When in Need  
Chapter Text

Colonel Brandon had visited with Sir John for a while one late afternoon after having spent the better part of the day with Mary-anne at Barton Cottage. As he mounted his horse, preparing to leave Barton Park, a messenger came to his encounter. He was handed a letter and, at once, Colonel Brandon recognized Mary-anne’s handwriting.

 

Dear Christopher,

I expect this letter will be delivered after we have already had more news, therefore a second one should soon follow, but I had the uncontrollable urge to write to you right away.

Margaret had an accident shortly after you left us this afternoon. The doctor has been called, but she remains unconscious as we wait for him to arrive. Mama and I are worried sick! I guess the idea of writing to you calmed me down a bit. I will not ask you to return, for I know it is a relatively tiresome and long ride to make thrice in one day, but I do hope you can come tomorrow. God willing all will be well and I know your visit would cheer Margaret – and I – up.

I will write again as soon as the doctor gives us news.

 

M.

 

Colonel Brandon rushed back to the Cottage, and since he had luckily been so close, he arrived even before the doctor did. As he came through the door unannounced, both Mary-anne and Mrs. Dashwood looked surprised to see him, though the latter was the first to speak.

“Colonel Brandon, how thoughtful of you to come back. You did not need to go through the trouble.”

“It was no trouble at all, I was taking my leave of Barton Park when Miss Dashwood’s letter was delivered to me. What has happened?”

As the look of surprise faded from their faces when he explained himself, worry slipped back to their countenance. Mrs. Dashwood seemed on the brink of tears even. Mary-anne spoke.

“Margaret was coming down from the tree house, and she must have tripped on her dress, for she fell midway down the ladder. She did not get up. Tom helped us take her to her room, but she remains unconscious.”

Mary-anne looked desperately concerned. He wished to hold her and comfort her, but he dared not, even if he only stood a few feet away from her. He would not dare to be so bold in front of her mother, but he was also still insecure towards Mary-anne on certain occasions. She still had not said those words he so longed to hear, or proclaimed love with any other gesture, even though he had done so on quite a few occasions in the few days since their betrothal. He should be content with the mere fact she had agreed to marry him, which was much more he could ever hope for, but it seemed his heart had grown greedy, always wishing for more. He supposed that her sending him a letter was sign enough she wanted him there, or even needed him to console her, but still, he rather wait for her to take a first step or say something, for fear of scaring her away with all the love he had to offer, and making this dream he was living end abruptly. Oh how he wished to hold her in this time of need, take care of her, kiss her forehead, and assure her everything would be alright.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“Your presence and friendship are more than enough, Colonel, thank you so much,” Mrs. Dashwood said. She then added “I suppose all we can do now is wait for the doctor.”

At almost that exact moment, the doctor rushed through the door.

“Doctor Abbot, come, she is upstairs,” Mrs. Dashwood led the doctor to Margaret’s room.

They had barely gone out of sight when Mary-anne threw herself on Colonel Brandon, her arms going around his waist, underneath his coat, her cheek pressed to his chest. She held him tight.

“I am so glad you are here, Christopher. Thank you so much for coming back. Being with you makes me calmer.”

His heart swelled with a mix of love and relief, and sheer happiness that she held him so. It beat harder and louder in his chest and she could certainly hear and feel it. He wrapped his arms around her, one of his hands gently stroking her back, and rested his head on top of hers.

“It will be alright, you’ll see. She probably collapsed out of shock, that’s all. Or she might have broken some bone and fainted due to the pain. Either way, it’s nothing very serious.” He kissed her head and did not let her go.

“I hope so.” She did not let him go either. “Thank you again for coming. You didn’t have to but I’m glad you did.”

“Of course I did. I would have come even if I had already gotten to Delaford.”

“You would have been exhausted!”

“I would gladly ride all day and all night to get to you, to hold you so.”

She smiled and though he could not see it, he felt her face move against his chest.

“I am honored to be the object of such acts of chivalry.”

“Have you eaten?” He suddenly asked, after a moment of silence.

“No. I am not hungry. How could I be?”

“But you must eat something. We cannot have you collapsing every time you are worried,” he said, remembering the last time she went without eating. “I’ll ask Betsy to prepare something for you.”

She smiled again, finding it sweet how he worried about her. “All right, but not right now” she said, refusing to let him go.

As they heard footsteps coming down the stairs, they were forced to part.

Mrs. Dashwood looked much more relieved. Doctor Abbot explained Margaret had broken her arm and had fainted due to the pain. He had set her arm back and immobilized it with a splint, and gave her something for the pain. She should be up again tomorrow morning. Mary-anne looked at Colonel Brandon in admiration, wondering if he knew everything about all subjects or if it just seemed that way because she was seeing him in yet another light.

As all was well, he was preparing to leave again, following the doctor. Mrs. Dashwood insisted he stay, for it was too late for him to ride back to Delaford, and he had already ridden enough for one day.  
Notes:

\- I'll be going out of town. I plan to update while I'm away but don't hate me should I be a bit late with it. All will be back to normal in February. And there isn't much left till the end. Well... till the wedding anyway. ;)

Chapter 19: A New Understanding of French  
Chapter Text

They sat around the table in the dining room. Books were open upon it. They sat close together, and he could smell her hair, her perfume, without needing to lean in to touch her curls with his nose. Her right hand shyly touched his under the table, in fear they might be seen. Her left, rested on one of the books. On her finger, the double band diamond ring he had given her. Was he dreaming? He must be, for he did not even recall the last time he had been this happy and had had the urge to smile all the time.

“What was that you told me? I was to pout as if I were about to be kissed?” Her voice parted him from his thoughts.

She read a line of her French lesson and every time the word required her to pout, he stole a kiss. She giggled each time, and read on, hoping for more of his kisses. Such kisses could be stolen, for Mrs. Dashwood sat outside with her sewing, watching Margaret, who in spite of having her arm in a splint, refused to sit inside quietly. She was up on the tree house, the fear of falling again not troubling her heart, only her mother’s. Fortunately, one could not have a clear view of the dining room from the tree house, nor from where Mrs. Dashwood was sitting.

“I do dare say my French has improved quite significantly.” She giggled. “If only I had had lessons such as these before…”

“I am most glad you didn’t, for I had not made your acquaintance when last you studied French.” He smiled and kissed her again. “Now, I have something to read to you, to test your understanding of the French language.” He pulled out a poem and started to read, that deep voice of his making the words feel like melting chocolate in her ears.

 

Ô toi, qui passes la plus belle

En attraits, en regards touchants ;

En esprit, en savoir, la plus spirituelle,

Et la plus vertueuse en généraux penchants !

Sais-tu quel sentiments d’une espèce nouvelle

Cet assemblage merveilleux

Fait naître dans mon coeur tendre autant que fidèle ?

La vénération que l’on a pour les Dieux,

Et tout l’amour qu’inspire une beauté mortelle[1].

 

She was smiling. She leaned over to him, cupped his face in her hands and kissed his lips more deeply and passionately than the kisses that had been stolen before.

“I understood it perfectly.”

“I love you”, he said, and she kissed him again.

She had yet to profess her love with clear words such as his. She seemed very happy, and responded to his kisses and caresses. He felt passion in her kisses, and she did agree to marry him. He believed she would not have done so merely out of convenience or lack of hope of someone else proposing, someone who she could truly love. If she had agreed, she probably felt something for him. It could be only fondness, however. How many marriages were built solely on that? He hoped it would not be their case. He hoped her feelings could grow and blossom into something more.

He broke out of his thoughts when he realized Mary-anne had pulled away from him and pushed her chair back ever so slightly. His heart filled in despair as to what had happened, what had he done wrong? Was he too eager in his declarations of love? Had he scared her?

But almost instantly, Margaret ran in, and he breathed in relief. He looked over to his betrothed and she smiled.

“Shall we continue, Colonel?” Mary-anne said as Margaret joined them at the table.

 

Notes:

[1] Oh you who passes, the most beautiful

In attractiveness and sensitive looks

In knowledge and soul, the most elegant,

And the most virtuous in all aspects!

Do you know what feelings of a new kind

This wonderful combination

Awakens in this tender and faithful heart of mine?

The veneration one has for the Gods

And all the love a mortal beauty can inspire.

 

Chapter 20: Close to my Heart  
Chapter Text

Mary-anne was coming down the stairs. Mrs. Dashwood had called for her when he arrived. She had a book in her hand, the one they had been reading last, and he noticed that on the milky skin of her cleavage lay a gold locket, strapped to her neck. He had never seen her wearing it before. She gazed upon him with a smile and as soon as she reached him, took his arm to lead him outside.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Dashwood,” he turned to say while Mary-anne pulled him outside. Her mother just smiled and turned to her chores.

They had preferred to sit outside of late, beyond the fences of the cottage, away from prying eyes and interruptions. As they walked, she caressed his arm. After they had walked down the small hill on which the Cottage sat and were by his horse, past the fences, out of sight, she stopped walking and stood on the tips of her toes to press her lips against his. Her locket twinkled in the sunlight. It bothered him a bit, the locket. Such jewelry usually was a gift from the heart, intended to hold the portrait of a loved one, or perhaps a lock of hair or some other token. Had someone gifted it to her? He hadn’t, though he did think about it. But he did not dare. It was presumptuous of him to assume she would wish to wear a token of him around her neck. He had bought one for himself instead, to hold the lock of hair she had granted him. He always had it with him, in his pocket, wherever he went. In the back of his mind, the fear it might have been a gift from Willoughby harassed him, along with all the implications of her still wearing it if it indeed had been a gift from him. But he shouldn’t think such things. It was foolish of him to. Was it not? He tried to push those thoughts away.

They reached the tree under which they were accustomed to sitting and sat very close to each other, their backs resting against the trunk of the tree. She handed him the book, and as he fumbled through the pages, looking for where they had stopped last, he looked up at her every so often, the locket glimmering in his eyes.

“Do you not remember our place?” She smiled as she took the book from his hands, to look for the page herself.

“I have never seen you wearing that” he said, after gathering some courage. He couldn’t help but to ask. He was afraid of what he might find out, though. “It becomes you.”

He looked fixedly at her chest and she took her hand to the locket.

“Oh, I forgot to take it off.” Her words did not soothe him. Quite the contrary, they made him more uneasy. Why would she wear it only when not in his presence? She saw the worry in his eyes and smiled, though shyly. She took her hand up to his cheek and caressed it, then it traveled upward and brushed his hair off his forehead.

“You may open it, if you wish.” He looked her in the eyes and they warmly confirmed what she had said.

His hand went to the locket and his heart raced with this new-found closeness. His hand brushing on her chest, so close to her heart. So close to her breasts. She flushed and felt hot in the face, while her heart also beat fast. She smiled nervously. He opened the locket and what he saw inside surprised him in ways he did not expect. It was a drawing of him. His smiling face.

“My father gave me this locket. I wished to have one for some reason when I was a child and he gifted it to me. But I never did wear it. I remembered I had it only recently, and found a good use for it,” she smiled. “Forgive me, I asked Elinor to sketch you for me without asking your permission,” she added apprehensively, worried he might not appreciate such an intrusion.

He smiled widely, so happy he was. “You may have me sketched as often as you please. I’m just surprised my countenance pleases you so.”

“I wear it whenever you are away for too long. This way you are always close to my heart.” She took her hand to the left side of her chest.

“Away for too long? But you last saw me only two days ago,” he said chuckling.

“That is too long for me.”

He cupped his hands on her cheeks, his fingers sinking in her hair.

“I…” he kissed one cheek. “Love…” he kissed the other. “You”. He pressed his lips against hers and quickly deepened the kissed, as he gently sucked on one lip and she did the same in turn.

At that game, they switched back and forth. Their hearts beat fast, in unison, as their breathing took a more heavy rhythm. Their faces burned hot and red. The Colonel felt it best to stop before stronger, inappropriate and uncontrollable urges took over. Mary-anne let out a low whimper as their lips parted. She wished to kiss him all day long. Her hand slipped down from his neck to his chest and came down back to her lap. He still caressed her cheeks and played with her curls, twirling one in his finger.

“Now, it does seem rather unfair that you have a sketch of me and I do not have a single portrait of your beautiful, angelical face to look upon when I cannot contemplate it personally,” he smiled.

“Do you mean to say, sir” she said in feigned outrage, “that a gentleman such as yourself does not have the ability to sketch your lady? How absurd!” She laughed.

His lady. He laughed as well.

“Unfortunately that is an ability I do lack.”

“Well you must master it at once! But since I am in good cheer I will ask my sister to draw one for you, if you so wish.”

“I do wish it. Not only one, several, to gaze upon at night so I may sleep easier.”

She smiled and touched her lips to his. She then picked the book up from her lap and said, as she searched for the correct page:

“Now, will you do me the honor of reading me some poetry? That is an ability I am certain you have mastered.”

 

Chapter 21: Wedding Arrangements  
Chapter Text

It had been a hectic couple of weeks. There had been so many wedding details to arrange, Mary-anne was feeling overwhelmed even with her mother’s constant help and with Elinor visiting more often than usual to aid as well. Mary-anne didn’t remember there being so much to do when Elinor got married. Perhaps because Elinor’s wedding did not have as many guests, or perhaps because Mary-anne wasn’t as involved as she could have been, since she had always been waiting for Colonel Brandon’s visits.

What eased her mind a bit was that he was to come the next day, after a few days’ absence, for he also had details to arrange and their future home to prepare. Elinor and Edward reported he was very much preoccupied in making Delaford manor as comfortable as possible for her, and was buying new furniture and reopening many rooms that had been closed off for years, since a bachelor had no use for so much space. He had assured her though, that he would leave most of the decorating to her, whose taste for such things was undoubtedly superior to his. Mary-anne thought that he was being very sweet and doing more than he should, especially since the only comfort she would ever need was being in his arms.

In the late afternoon, a letter came from him.

 

My Sweet Mary-anne,

 

I have been called to London on urgent business, and though I looked forward to finally contemplating your angelic countenance in person again, I will not be able to go to you. I shall be back in three days’ time and go straight to your encounter. You remain, as always, with my heart.

Love,

Christopher.

 

My dearest Christopher,

 

I miss you terribly already, I almost cannot bear it. In three days’ time I will probably have walked halfway to London, hoping to meet you sooner.

 

Forever yours,

Mary-anne.

 

Colonel Brandon took her letter with him and read it every chance he got, holding it to his chest and sighing, like a foolish lovesick boy. Forever yours. That had been the closest she had ever come to declaring love for him in words. He thought her actions towards him could express love, but they could also be just affection, fondness, especially since she was prone to feeling more intensely than others. Her mere fondness could be mistaken for love. One could never be sure until one hears the words being said to them. He was, however, happy all the same, hopeful now that she would someday come to love him truly, maybe even as deeply and passionately as he loved her. He began to feel more confident to express his love as frequently as he wished to and as profusely as he felt it without fearing it would scare her away.

 

The business he had in London could be taken care of in one day, but he remained an extra day to meet with his attorney and take care of everything having to do with his estate. He wished Mary-anne to be provided for should something happen to him before they had children, or should they never have children or lack a male heir.

When he walked back to the inn at which he was staying – it did not seem worth the trouble to open his London home for staying only two days – he stopped in front of a store window. It was a jewelry shop. The tiara displayed on the window was exactly like the one he had seen Mary-anne wearing many times in his mind’s eye, in his reveries of their wedding at Elinor’s wedding, and every night ever since, in his dreams. The diamonds were arranged so that the tiara looked like a string of flowers that would bloom out of her curls and hold her veil in place.

He had wished to pay for everything concerning the wedding, but Mary-anne was adamant on taking care of at least the dress. She would not spend all of his money before they even got married, she had said. He had secretly wished to find a wedding gown like the one he saw in his dreams and that she would approve of it, but even if he were to pay for everything, he would not be able to shop for the gown with her. Grooms should not see their bride’s dress before the wedding. That didn’t bother him much though; she would look beautiful no matter what.

But the tiara. It was right there, in front of him. He could not just leave it there, pretend he hadn’t seen it. It would make her look like a queen, like the queen she was. Queen of his heart. He stepped into the store and had it wrapped for him to take.

That night he dreamt the same dream, of her in the wedding gown, walking towards the altar, smiling. Only this time she got further down the aisle, closer to him, before he woke. He woke early, for he wanted to leave London as soon as possible, and get to her.

 

***********

 

He rode down the path that led to Barton Cottage. He still had a good distance to cover, but he saw as she exited the house and ran down to the fence where he usually tied his horse. It prompted him to push the stirrups so his horse would go faster, into a nice lope. When he approached her, he dismounted swiftly, before the horse had even come to a full stop.

“Christopher! Be careful! You could get hurt!”

He held the reins in one hand while his other went around her waist, slightly lifting her from the ground towards his lips. Her hand slipped around the back of his neck and into his hair while they shared a kiss.

“Hello, my lady.” He put her down and turned to tie his horse.

She smiled. “You are in a cheerful mood today.”

“Why shouldn’t I be when I have the fairest damsel in all the land waiting for me?”

He turned to her. She stepped forward to hug him.

“How are you?” he asked, holding her close to him.

“Much better now that you are here. Though I am still very tired. Can we not just get married tomorrow? Only you and I, Edward could officiate. I would not be so tired, and would be your wife sooner. I declare there are no downsides to this idea of mine.”

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “And have all of England think I kidnapped and forced you into marriage? I think not,” he said in jest.

“Why would anyone think that?!”

“Why else would such a lovely young lady agree to marry a man such as myself? They might think it even if they all see you walking to the altar at your own accord,” he smiled.

“Nonsense. I am very fortunate to be marrying such a kind, generous, intelligent, charming man,” she smiled back.

Hearing her sing his praises as such made him giddy. He smiled to know she thought such things of him. He hoped he could continue to be like that in her eyes for all eternity. He brought his lips to hers once more.

“Besides” he said as he took her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers to escort her back to the cottage, “if we were to marry in secret, no one would see the gift I have brought for you.”

“Gift?” She tightened her pace to accompany his. “Why did you buy me a gift?”

“Because I love you and I wish to spoil you and make you happy.”

She wished to kiss him again, but now they were in view of anyone who could be watching from the Cottage, so she refrained. She only smiled and squeezed his hand tighter.

They got to the parlor and Mrs. Dashwood came to greet him. They both inquired about his trip and he told them how it went, pointing out that the most interesting part was when he found this, taking out the black velvet covered box from his riding bag and handing it to Mary-anne.

Her eyes and her smile widened.

“Thank you. But there was no need for it,” she said before she had even opened it.

“I wished to buy it.” She started to open the box and Colonel Brandon went on. “I know nothing of the gown you chose; still, I thought you might wear this on our wedding day, if you are so inclined. If you do not wish to, there is no trouble. All I wish for is to see you pleased.”

“Why would I not want to wear it?” She said as she removed her hands from her lips, which they covered because she was in awe. “It is beautiful! Thank you so much, Colonel,” she let out, remembering her mother was present.

“Indeed, it is gorgeous! And so very generous of you, Colonel. I must fetch Margaret to see it.” Mrs. Dashwood left the room.

He was sitting beside Mary-anne, and she hurried to kiss his lips.

“Christopher! Wasn’t this too costly? You did not need to do this.”

“Being wed to you is priceless and more than makes up for it.”

She took one of his hands in both of hers and kissed it numerous times.

“But you are to wed me no matter what,” she smiled. “There is no need to give me nothing material in return. All I ask is for your love and companionship.”

“That you shall always have,” he grinned, feeling giddy again.

Chapter 22: The Jitters  
Chapter Text

The cottage was full and hectic. Everyone was still chatting around the house and excited, and even though it was still late afternoon, Mary-anne though it best to retire early. She had a big day on the morrow. However, she still sat in bed, unable to rest.

She had begun remembering how her father and mother’s relationship was like. Though Henry Dashwood was always very loving and caring towards her mother, and showed her the utmost respect, she did not remember there ever being any passion, any spark. Any romance. That could very well be because they did not let it show in front of their children, but what if it was not? And even if it was, what kind of passion could be so restrained and moderate as to choose when and where it could be shown? Was that any passion at all? Mary-anne wondered if there would be any excitement and romance in her marriage. She truly wished there would, for she thought she could not live happily, truly happily if there wasn’t. What if the lack of romance in her parents’ marriage was due to their age and time together? Colonel Brandon was already much older than she was, though lately she had no longer seen that as an impediment. So would he be too calm and passionless?

Then she began to recall when she was just a child, the neighbors and friends her mother would have over for tea. She was old enough to understand good portions of the conversations, but young enough to remain in the room and not be noticed as an intruder. She remembered the women talking about their routines, and how boring their lives seemed to her, and how their husbands were sometimes plainly and simply indifferent towards them. They would not share events of their day or have any sort of stimulating debate or conversation with them. She did not hear of romantic gestures or words. Those seemed to stop once you were wed, if they ever did occur. Men seemed to close themselves off as the years went by. She became very agitated and anxious with such thoughts and memories.

Her mind then brought forth the image of Willoughby. She remembered the wonderful times she had shared with him. They were always exciting, never dull. She recalled their rides on his carriage and the rush of excitement she always felt with him, just waiting for him. That was what she wanted, that was what she needed every day of her life.

… until she didn’t. Until it was all pain and tears and sorrow. That she never wished to feel again, ever. She felt very confused, very nervous. What if marrying was not the right thing to do after all? She had fantasized and romanticized it all her life, but now, analyzing all she had heard and seen and been through, she saw that it was extremely difficult to have something like that. Only in the books and poems she read did that ever happen. And most of the time, all the characters died before ever being truly happy. Take Romeo and Juliet, for instance. Dying for love did not seem so romantic to her anymore.

But it all faded away as her mind conjured up the Colonel’s image. Christopher. She took her locket from her neck and opened it to gaze at his portrait. She smiled. She remembered all the times they had shared, ever since her illness. She remembered even before her illness, that he was always very cordial and sweet, even though she did not make the smallest effort to treat him well. Still he remained a loyal friend to her family, and in love with her, and helped her in her time of need. She was sure in her heart he would never harm her. He was a gentleman, and she was always calm around him, although that was not what she thought she wished to feel, but was always very content. She even used to think him too old and boring to ever feel anything similar to love and excitement.

But the excitement arrived, eventually. Given the time and attention he deserved, he began to open up. He was only ever so grave because of his hardships in life, and as she showed kindness, he showed himself, his true self, more. He was passionate and sensible, as well as reasonable. The perfect mix of both, which she though could never exist. She was happier during his visits than she ever was doing anything else, though she would deny it. When she finally gave in completely, he showed even more of that side, became more open, more exciting, more romantic, and her heart would throb and her body would quiver with just the touch of him. The very thought of him.

He did not need to take her on wild carriage rides to make her feel that rush and excitement. He alone did that. Even lately, as they were engaged and so close to the wedding, when he already had her, his excitement and romance, his passionate kisses, only grew. Her heart filled with love, joy, excitement to think of him. Sweet Christhoper. Her doubts began to dissipate.

She did not believe he would grow indifferent and grave, like her mother’s old neighbors’ husbands did. All indicated he would be romantic as he was now, maybe more once they were bonded by marriage. He had always respected her and her opinions, always had intelligent conversations with her. Why should that ever change?

Her doubts were being washed away fast as she remembered the passionate kiss he had left her with the night before and the sweet words he had said before he rode off back to Delaford. “I cannot wait to be wed to you. I shall make it my sole purpose in this life to always make you happy.” Her heart swelled and her whole body tingled.

But she wished to see his face before her, or at least hear from him immediately. That would certainly soothe her and rid her mind of all these crazy doubts. Colonel Brandon was a wonderful man. She knew this in her heart to be true. She would not feel as she did or accept to marry him if he weren’t. He was perfect.

She decided to write to him. What, she did not yet know. But she needed to speak to him, to calm her heart.

There was a knock on the door and it opened immediately. It was her mother.

“Dear, there is a letter for you. It is from Colonel Brandon.”

Chapter 23: Wedding Eve  
Notes:  
Chapter Text

They were to be married at Barton Parish. Sir John offered to hold the celebratory breakfast at Barton Park so that Delaford manor wouldn’t be disturbed and would remain ready to receive its master and mistress. Therefore, having the ceremony at Barton was more agreeable. Furthermore, that would allow Edward to be a groomsman instead of the one to officiate the ceremony.

All were at Barton but Colonel Brandon, who stayed at Delaford due to the tradition of not seeing the bride twenty-four hours prior to the wedding. He thought it was a rather silly tradition, but he did not want to take any chances. Bad fortune was not something he wished to have on this day. Or ever again in his lifetime. He could have stayed at Barton Park, but he thought his sleep would be a bit less troubled without the racket of the final preparations for the celebration, and without Mrs. Jennings’ anxious chatter. He was anxious enough on his own.

Edward also stayed behind so that Colonel Brandon would not ride alone to Barton in the morning. They were having a drink in the drawing room after supper, but Colonel Brandon was awfully quiet.

“Are you having second thoughts, Brandon old man? Afraid to give up the freedom a bachelor’s life offers?” Edward said in jest.

Brandon looked up from the crackling fire at him and chuckled. “I happily give up all such freedoms, which I never really did indulge in, to be rid of the loneliness and emptiness which are constant. Were… constant.” He took a sip from his drink.

“Then what it is that troubles you, friend?” Edward asked. Colonel Brandon stirred his drink in his hand, watching it. “You do know I am head of you parish. I might be of some help,” Edward smiled, always aiming to cheer. “I believe it is my job to give counsel and such things.”

“I am… afraid she might have second thoughts. That this all is just a dream and I will awake up cruelly soon.”

“I assure you this is not a dream. I sit here in the flesh.”

“It just seems like it is too good to be true. Given all that has happened in my life… This, happiness, is not the norm. Not for too long at least.”

“Has she given you any sign that she regrets anything? Has she not been happy and shown you love?”

“Yes, but…” She had yet to profess her love, if she indeed felt it. It still bothered him more than it should. If she did not love him truly, she could come to her senses at any moment. Regret her decision. Back away. She could leave him standing at the altar and never show. Break his heart in a million pieces. The very heart she had put back together, slowly nursed back into life. His insecurities were at play once again.

“Allow yourself to be happy, Brandon. You deserve it,” Edward said, cutting off his thoughts.

In came Ruth with a letter addressed to Colonel Brandon. It was from Mary-anne.

“Ah, there now then, that should calm you nerves. I will retire and leave you to it then. Do not hesitate to call should you need me. Goodnight, Brandon.” Edward got up from the high back chair.

“Goodnight, Edward.”

Colonel Brandon looked down at the letter in his hand, not having the courage to open it. He had written her a letter earlier that day.

Love of my life, light of my existence,  
I can hardly wait for tomorrow, to finally be joined to you in matrimony, my sweet Mary-anne. When you accepted to be my wife you made me happier than I ever thought possible. Are you absolutely sure about your decision? It all seems like a sweet dream, too good to be true. If it is, I do not ever wish to wake up.

With all my heart,

Christopher.

 

Colonel Brandon was afraid of her response. What if she wasn’t sure? What if he had opened her eyes to something that had been kept deep inside her? What if now was when he awoke from his dream? In the dreams he had been having, she walked down the aisle towards him, but never made it to his arms before he woke. Was it a sign?

He took a deep breath and opened the letter.

My sweetest Christopher,  
Of course I am sure! Absolutely and completely, with all my heart. What must I do to make you believe it? I will spend the rest of my days proving it to you. It is a dream, a dream come true. I cannot sleep with all the excitement I feel within me.

Yours for always,

Mary-anne.

 

He breathed in relief and his heart beat easier in his chest. It really was foolish, all his insecurity. But he couldn’t help it; the love he felt made him feel as a boy again, and these insecurities came with being young.

He gathered himself and went to his room to sleep his last night alone, or so he hoped. She could wish to have separate chambers. Or something could happen to make her not show tomorrow. He read her letter again, and fell asleep with it pressed to his chest.

 

Morning came and Colonel Brandon was up before the sun. He ordered some water to be heated for his bathtub and took his warm bath, hoping it could calm his nerves. It did not. He dressed slowly, making sure he forgot nothing. He pulled up his white trousers and buttoned the gold buttons on his red army jacket. He put on his boots and took his gloves. He walked down the hall to the staircase and met Edward on the way.

“So then, breakfast before we go?”

“I couldn’t eat. But do feel free to ask the kitchen to prepare whatever you like.”

“No, I think I’ll forgo breakfast also. I heard the feast at Barton Park shall be grand, I wouldn’t want to spoil my appetite,” he smiled.

Colonel Brandon let out a small laugh, and Edward was pleased he could alleviate some of the graveness on his face.

 

The ride in the carriage was rather silent. Colonel Brandon pulled on his white gloves and tinkered with them for what seemed to be hours.

“Brandon, don’t worry yourself to death. I’ve been where you are now, and I think it makes things easier to think about the after. When you get to take her home. That should calm you down.”

“Or it can make me more nervous, thinking about if I will be able to keep her happy.” He smiled, rather nervously.

“Well aren’t you difficult to cheer up. Don’t think so little of yourself, Brandon. And Miss Dashwood – or shall I say Mrs. Brandon? – does not strike me as the type of woman who would do something she didn’t absolutely want to. All of the Dashwoods might be like that, actually. I should know.” He smiled, referring to Elinor. “If she agreed to marriage it is because she wants to marry you and loves you.”

Does she, though? Colonel Brandon just smiled and focused on the good, not to make himself mad, nor Edward.

***  
Brandon’s Bride by HisLight.InMe at fanfiction.net

Left alone in the dressing the room, Mary-anne slipped her last glove on. She looked up into the full length mirror. Her ivory veil spilled down her dress like a lacy mist.

"I do hope…he likes it," she whispered, to the girl in the mirror. The girl did not look quite like herself because, today she was a bride. In all of her deepest imaginings and romantic dreams, Mary-anne had never truly believed this day would come, that she would be, in a matter of hours, a married woman.

Her heart fairly raced within her breast and she held her hand to it to make it steady.

She looked down at her ivory gown, it was her mother's refashioned first for her sister, Elinor and now again for herself. The changes to it were subtle, but none of the women were quite the same height or size. The lace that traced the seams matched that of her veil and it had been added personally for her wedding.

"This is the dress father saw all those years past, when mother walked down to him." Deep in her soul, Mary-anne wished that her father might be able to see her in it now. What would he say? Might he cry at the sight of his little Mari-Annie all grown and now a bride?

Tears formed in her eyes and she felt the coolness of one as it fell down her cheek.

There was a knock at the door and thinking it was her mother or sisters, she bade them to enter.

She turned to watch the door open the smallest of cracks.

"Miss Mary-anne…I wondered…" the voice of her bridegroom, Colonel Brandon, trailed off. There was a pause before he spoke again. "I wanted to know if I might speak with you. Now, before the ceremony? I have asked your mother and she has consented on the condition that I do not…see you."

Mary-anne felt her whole face flush and her heart began pounding even harder than it had been. "Yes, Colonel, please do come in. I shall move behind the screen." Slipping behind the changing screen, she breathed deeply, trying to calm her nerves. "You may come in."

Peeking around the side, she watched as her bridegroom stepped into the room. He looked very becoming in his red dress uniform, the gold buttons shining in the light from the window. Though it didn't seem possible, her heart actually sped its pulse more at the sight of him.

He stood with his hands behind his back. Her favorite clump of blond hair fell into his eyes. "Miss Mary-anne I…" He trailed off again, looking every bit as nervous as the day he had proposed. The same worried lines creased his forehead.

"Yes, Colonel?"

"There is still time for you to- I do not know how to form the words, for they break my heart to even think them, but I would not wish to…That is…" His eyes pleaded, as if she might be able to understand without the need to finish but Mary-anne was at a loss. She did not have any idea what the Colonel could mean.

She grasped the edge of the screen a little tighter careful not to tip it over, and waited.

Colonel Brandon, straightened his back and closed his eyes, "Mary-anne, if you would have it, I will consent to breaking our arrangement, releasing you of your obligations."

So shocking was this speech that Mary-anne forgot everything of tradition and stepped out from behind the screen. Moving closer she placed a hand on Brandon's arm, causing him to open his eyes. He looked down at her, his pale-green eyes filled with sorrow and longing. He backed away leaving a few steps between them.

"Why should I want to be released?" Mary-anne asked, fresh tears forming.

"Forgive me," the Colonel said, reaching for a handkerchief in his pocket. He gave it to her and she dabbed at her eyes. "I had not meant to distress you. Only that I wanted you to be sure."

Mary-anne moved to sit in a chair near the mirror, she suddenly felt her knees going weak. "Are you sure, Colonel? Perhaps it is not my devotion you are doubting, but your own. I am after all much younger than you, perhaps you grow tired of your pet?" She knew the words were harsh but when, if not your wedding day, can one speak truly from the heart?

"No," Colonel Brandon said, stepping closer to her. "I only… My devotion is as it has always been."

"Then why are you even here now? Why did you come here, speaking of breaking arrangements and releasing me?" Great hot tears rolled down her cheeks and she laid her face in her hands.

"Oh, Mary-anne, I would never have come had I known the pain it would bring you." His deep soothing voice was in her ear and she raised her face to find him down on his knees before her.

Taking her hands in his, just as he had done the day they had become engaged, he looked deeply into her eyes. "You are my angel and my affection, my regard and respect, my devotion…my love for you could never be lost. I might be able to release you from our engagement, but you shall never be released from…my heart."

More tears came to her and Mary-anne laid her cheek down on their clasped hands.

"Mary-anne, my angel tell me again that you full heartily and willingly, under no obligations, consent to be my wife? Put your dear Brandon's mind at ease, but know that it was never any lack of devotion on my part that brought me here."

"Brandon, I will be your wife. For I love you," Mary-anne said, looking again into his eyes. He smiled seeming to find what he needed in hers.

"Would that I could kiss you, but it would not be proper."

"Please, Brandon?"

"I shall, in one hour's time," he said, with a laugh. Letting go of her hands, he got to his feet and started to open the door. "Forgive me for the intrusion, angel. I shall see you soon."

Mary-anne laid her face in her hands. She counted to three, once again trying to slow her breathing.

Then under her chin she felt a hand and it lifted her face up. Brandon bent down and kissed her on the forehead. His kiss was long and hard. He let his cheek rest on her face even after it was through. Then he let her go and hurriedly left the room.

 

 

They had been waiting for a while. The guests were already seated inside the church. Edward assured him brides always run a little late, but he was starting to go mad with worry again. He pulled out his pocket watch to look at the time, and with it came the locket in which he kept the lock of hair she had bestowed upon him, along with a portrait of her Elinor had drawn at her request, to give to him. He opened it and smiled. What could be delaying her so? The image of her crying with regret in her room while Mrs. Dashwood and Elinor banged on the door pleading with her to come out sprang up in his mind. He tried to push it away, but despair was slowly filling his being.

Elinor appeared suddenly as if out of nowhere and gave her husband a kiss on the cheek. Margaret and the other bridesmaids quickly followed.

“Well, go on then, let us start. You have to be inside before Mary-anne comes,” she said to Colonel Brandon.

 

********

 

He stood at the altar, nervously twiddling his fingers. The band changed the song they played and suddenly the double doors at the end of the long red carpet opened. At first he could see only the brightness of the sunlight, but within seconds, Mary-anne stepped forward, as if out of the sunburst. As she came closer, he noticed every detail of her. She was just as he had dreamed, every detail down to the tiara he had given her. He made great effort not to shed tears of joy. His heart was suddenly calm, soothed at her sight. She smiled, and it was brighter than the sunshine in his eyes. She came to the steps of the altar and he offered his hand for support. She took it as she climbed and faced him after handing her bouquet to Elinor, so she could take both his hands.

“Dearly beloved” the priest began. “We are gathered together here in the sight of God and in the face of this congregation to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony…”

She had made it to the altar at last. Her hands were in his, he felt them, it was real. She smiled divinely, looking into his eyes and he couldn’t help but to smile back. The priest went on with his words and he looked at her, his heart filling with love. Her gown was white with gold details, which along with her smile made her shine even brighter.

“Christopher Brandon” he heard the priest say. “Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will” he said, hardly containing himself with so much happiness.

“Mary-anne Dashwood” the priest began, as Mary-anne looked into his beautiful hazel-green eyes. She took notice in how dashing and elegant he was in his uniform. Her heart was at peace, filled with warmth, filled with… love for him. She contemplated how fortunate she was to have a man like him love her so.

“…both shall live?”

“I will” she said, more sure of it than anything else in her life so far.

Colonel Brandon took the ring from the priest. He was controlling himself to not tremble with happiness, for hearing her say I will made him giddy. He placed the ring back on her finger, where it had been for the past month or so, and as he did, he said

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

The priest went on with the service, but Colonel Brandon had ears for no further words and eyes only for her. It was done. A dream come true.

 

Chapter 1: Wedding Day  
Chapter Text

 

Mary-anne sat in his – in their – bed, her heart pounding in her chest, butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. She had wed Christopher that very morning. She remembered seeing him on the altar while she made her way down the aisle. He looked so dashing in his army attire, and he looked at her fondly and smiled, the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. He was beaming. She felt so very fortunate because she knew she was very much loved. Hearing his sweet, velvet voice say “I will” was the most wonderful sound in the world, a memory she would cherish forever.

After staying a while at the celebratory breakfast, where they ate and danced – oh how she enjoyed dancing with him! – and were congratulated by all, they rode back to Delaford, leaving their guests to enjoy themselves in their absence. In the carriage ride, he sat by her side, close, so very close, with one arm around her and the other holding her hand, their fingers intertwined.

“What would Mrs. Brandon fancy doing on her first day as mistress of Delaford?” He whispered close to her ear, making the hairs on her neck stand on end. She blushed at the thought of being called Mrs. Brandon, and of being mistress of anything.

“I would love nothing better than to spend every minute with the master of Delaford – and of my heart – doing whatever he desires.”

He smiled at that. Master of her heart. He still could not quite believe he had wed her, that she had agreed to it. She, who only months ago did not give him a second thought or look. She who had been so madly in love with that blaggard Willoughby and was left so brokenhearted she swore never to love again. He felt foolish for being so insecure about her. An experienced man like him, war scars and all, insecure about a woman, a woman who was now his wife, as he had dreamed. Still he felt that it could all end with a simple misstep on his part. That he could not make her happy and she would end up resenting him.

She cut off his thoughts when she held one hand up to his face with a soft, warm touch.

“Christopher,” the use of his Christian name still made his hairs stand on end, “what do you wish to do?”

“Just being with you will make me extremely happy.” He wished to kiss her, but they rode with the carriage open, therefore, he could not. Their closeness was already improper display of affection. Any passerby could see them. But he needed to embrace her, to know it was real. To verify she wouldn’t recoil at his touch. “Though I do have one small surprise for you.”

“A surprise? My dearest, will you ever stop spoiling me?” She smiled widely.

“Never.” He almost kissed her once again, but refrained.

The rest of the carriage ride was quiet, but full of tenderness. Mary-anne was held by her handsome husband as he smelled her hair and she rested her head on his shoulder, and with her arms she pulled him closer to her. Her hand sometimes rested on his waist, at others, on his chest. The feeling of her embracing him was nothing short of sublime.

When they got to Delaford, Colonel Brandon took her in his arms and carried her through the threshold into the manor. The staff was lined up, waiting to meet their new mistress, and she was set down to be introduced. After that, he picked her back up amidst her giggles and laughter and carried her through the entire house, giving her a tour of the estate of which she was now mistress. It was a vast manor, where fifteen beds could be made. She particularly enjoyed the library, which she had already seen, but only now had really noticed the size of his vast collection. Shelves covered most walls from floor to ceiling, all filled with impeccably kept tomes. Her books, the books he had gifted her with, had been brought and added to the shelves as well. The last room he went into was a bedchamber, the biggest one they had visited. He put her down, and she was suddenly nervous, knowing what was expected of her as a wife, but at the same time not quite knowing what to expect of it, of him.

“This is the best bedchamber in the house. It should of course belong to its mistress,” he said, wishing not to be rude in assuming she would want to share a bedchamber with him, but his heart beating heavy at the thought she might not. Many couples slept separately, though he did not find that prospect a good one.

“Mine? Only mine?” she asked, looking rather hurt. “Do you not mean to share a bed with me?” Her marriage had barely started and already she had let him down somehow? Or had she expected too much? Had she read too many romance novels and lost track of what real life was like?

The sudden sadness in her eyes made his heart break. He pulled her close and cupped her face in between his hands.

“I would love nothing more than to share the room with you, my love. I just did not know whether it was something you wished, and I did not mean to be rude assuming…”

“Why would we not share a room?” He did not answer but she could read in his eyes what must have gone through his mind. She smiled. “I wish to share my life with you. Sleeping is part of it. I cannot even begin to imagine how insipid the lives of couples who sleep separately must be.”

“Our bedchamber then it shall be.”

He tenderly kissed her lips, and her nervousness grew. But as they lingered on the kiss, which grew deeper, she became calmer, and even desirous as to what was to come. However, he stopped. He pointed to a wooden door to the right of the room. “Through there is your dressing-room, my lady. You should get changed, so we can go downstairs and have supper.”

Her worries were further reduced. It was not expected of her now. Not yet.

“Supper? I could not eat right now! My stomach is in knots.”

“Are you well, Mary-anne? Have I done something to upset you?” His insecurity spoke once more.

“Of course not, Christopher! Don’t be silly. These are good knots. It is happiness. Extreme happiness, for I am Mrs. Brandon now,” she smiled, blushing. “Besides, you mentioned something of a surprise… I am curious.”

He smiled and pulled her close, pressing his lips against hers tenderly once again.

“You’ll have to wait a tad more, love,” he still had his arms around her. “I do not want you falling ill ever again, so we must eat something. Go change and I’ll do the same. I will meet you downstairs.”

She happily obliged. All her clothes and belongings were brought to Delaford while they were at the ceremony, and were neatly arranged in her dressing room. When she opened her jewelry box to store her earrings and the tiara he had given her, she saw something she had almost forgotten.

Once she was ready, she stepped out of her dressing room and did not find him in the bedchamber. She walked down the hall and there he was, atop the stairs, waiting. Charming as ever, with a smile and a bow he offered his hand to escort her down.

“Can we go back into the chambers for a moment? I too have a surprise for you.” He smiled, intrigued, and followed her.

“You look lovely, my angel” he said as they walked back.

“Why thank you, darling. You look very charming yourself. As usual,” she smiled up at him.

Colonel Brandon blushed at her compliment. As usual. That meant she always took notice of how he presented himself. She had never complimented him in that aspect before.

She sat down on the bed and only then did he notice she held something in her grip. She tapped the space on the mattress beside her, calling him to sit as well.

“I have something for you. If you will wear it. You do not need to if you do not wish to, truly, Christopher.” She opened her hand. In it sat a gold ring, a man’s ring. Set in it, a lock of hair, the color of which matched hers. “I saved some and had this made out of one of my father’s old rings for you. Mama let me have one. I just think it is rather unfair that I get to wear a symbol of your love for me,” she looked at her wedding ring, the diamond sparkling, and twisted it around her finger with her thumb “and I cannot give you anything to represent my feelings for you. But I do know it is not customary, so if you do not like the idea…”

Feelings for him. Not love. He was moved nonetheless, that she would want him to carry a symbol of her affection at all times, and that she took the time to think of such a gesture. And spent whatever little money her family could spare. His heart swelled at the knowledge that she cared enough to think of this. “I love it. Of course I will wear it. So all the world will know I am yours.” He kissed her lips, careful to not get carried away. They were on the bed after all.

When their lips parted, she smiled, pleased. She then took his left hand and as she placed the ring on his finger, said “With this ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship… I do not have many worldly goods, but with them I thee endow.”

He laughed and with his index finger, pulled her chin up. He looked into her eyes and she felt like she was going to melt. They shared a passionate kiss.

“What is mine is yours, so you have plenty of worldly goods, my dear. Now, let us go downstairs. It is my turn to surprise you.”

“Oh yes, that is right!”

“But first, supper.”

 

After dinner, Colonel Brandon escorted her out to the stables. The stable hand brought out a mare, the most beautiful mare she had ever seen. It was white, so white it was blinding in the fading sunlight. Mary-anne certainly had never seen it previously, in her visits to Delaford.

“My most prized possession. A match to my own stallion. She’s yours, of course, for you to ride whenever you fancy.”

“Christopher, she’s beautiful! Thank you!” She embraced him and he kissed her forehead. “Shall we go for a ride now?”

“I am but your humble servant and only wish to accomplish whatever your heart desires.” He broke the embrace and took her hand, bowing down to kiss it. She giggled. Oh how he loved that sound. He sent the stable hand to fetch his own horse while he saddled Mary-anne’s mare. When he had finished, he picked Mary-anne up with ease, holding her by the waist, and sat her on the horse. He then mounted his own and off they went.

They only had time for a short ride, since the sun began to set on this most wonderful of days. When they went back to the manor, each entered their own dressing room to wash up and change for bed.

And now here she was, sitting up on their bed, already under the covers, waiting for her husband. She was very nervous. She knew what was expected, but did not know the details of it. Her mother had never discussed such things with her, and Elinor wasn’t too keen on discussing it at length either. She did not know whether it would hurt or be pleasant, although if his kisses were any indication, it would be very pleasant indeed. And there was the fact that he was older. Even though he had never been married, she did not expect him to be as inexperienced as she was. Those were not the ways of the world. He would never, of course, have taken advantage of an innocent young lady, but there were other means, she knew. Would she be pleasing to him? Would she know what to do and how to act properly?

She felt foolish for worrying so, but could not help it. Such a charming, sweet and passionate man. He had been alone for so long, certainly by his own choice, for no woman in her right mind would resist him. Yet he chose her, out of all the possibilities that were probably presented to him, he chose foolish little Mary-anne. He loved her. So she wanted to make him happy. She regretted not having perceived his worth right from the start. She could have been in his arms long ago, happy, and prevented so much heartache. Both hers and his. She wished to make up for that, she wanted to make him happy in every way possible. Every way. But she was not sure she knew how.

Colonel Brandon opened the door of his dressing room slightly and knocked, as if asking for permission to come in.

She smiled. “Come in,” she said shyly. Upon seeing her smile, he smiled also. Her hair was down, falling over her shoulders. He had never seen her curls unfastened before, and he loved the sight of it. She was wearing a nightgown of very fine cloth, and he could almost see her breasts as if nothing covered them. He did not know whether he should look away, to not embarrass her, or if he should look at her until every detail was etched in his mind eternally. She felt rather exposed and vulnerable in this gown, and held the covers high above her waist, almost over her breasts, gripping them tightly in embarrassment and nervousness. She felt so vulnerable that she had decided to wear undergarments beneath the gown to further shield her innocence.

He had a small parcel in his hands. “I come bearing gifts,” he said.

“Christopher, you must stop spoiling me! I will grow used to it. You do not have to court a woman you are already married to,” she said, with a smile still on her face.

“Oh, but I must.” He sat on the edge of the bed, on the side opposite hers, facing her. “I wish to ensure that the fondness you feel for me only continues to grow,” he gave a timid, small smile.

“Fondness? But I already feel so much more!” He didn’t quite look her in the eye. His gaze was lost somewhere between her face and the sheets on which his hands and the parcel rested. She pondered why he was not convinced of what she felt for him. Did he think so little of himself that he would not believe her words, her actions? And suddenly it all came to her in a flash of enlightenment. She had never said the words. Why had she never said them? She felt it, she was sure. How could she not? She would not marry him if she did not. Was she afraid still of expressing her feelings? Afraid of admitting to them and getting her heart broken? But he would never break her heart. He loved her and had expressed it and proven it time and time again. She felt a sudden wave of remorse for never having said it back due to foolish confusions of her mind.

She looked at him desperately, tears pricking behind her eyes. They were hot in anger towards how foolish she had been. She moved closer to him and took her hand to his cheek, looking into his eyes. His beautiful eyes.

“Christopher, I love you. So very much. I do.”

There it was. She had said it. She really did feel it. His heart leapt happily in his chest, yet he sat there in shock, not knowing quite what to do. He was so happy he could cry.

“And your gifts,” she continued, “are not responsible for that. It is you, the man you are. It is what I see when I look into your eyes.” She stroked his cheek and then brushed a lock of hair from his forehead.

He finally managed to gather himself, and taking her hand and pressing his lips to it he said “I love you too, my Mary-anne.” He kissed every knuckle on her hand and then pulled her in for a deep kiss to her lips. He was so excited for having heard her say it finally, that he wished to take her right then. But he must restrain himself. He must not frighten her. “I suppose you do not want the gift then,” he said in jest, feigning to take it away.

“Christopher Brandon! You will not leave me curious, will you?” He laughed at her half indignant tone. “Do not tease me like that, I beg of you!” Laughing still, he handed her the parcel. The sight of him laughing was such a beautiful one, him bearing teeth, throwing his head back, she wished to see it always.

She opened the parcel and saw it was a book. It was Edmund Spencer’s Amoretti. They had never read from that one before.

“Thank you, dearest. I love it. Would you read to me a bit? I love hearing your voice.”

He took the book and opened to a page that was previously marked.

After long storms and tempests' sad assay,  
Which hardly I endured heretofore,  
In dread of death and dangerous dismay,  
With which my silly bark was tossed sore,  
I do at length descry the happy shore,  
In which I hope ere long for to arrive;  
Fair soil it seems from far and fraught with store  
Of all that dear and dainty is alive.  
Most happy he that can at least achieve  
The joyous safety of so sweet a rest;  
Whose least delight sufficeth to deprive  
Remembrance of all pains which him oppressed.  
All pains are nothing in respect of this,  
All sorrows short that gain eternal bliss.*

She sat quietly, looking down at her hands, listening. Her nerves were still not quite settled. When he finished reading, he noticed her demeanor.

“Mary-anne,” he said lovingly as he closed the book, “we do not need to do anything you do not wish to.” He placed the book on the bedside table and sat there, observing her.

She blushed. He knew her so well. After all, he had watched her for long. He could tell what she was thinking just by observing her. She still had some catching up to do in that matter.

The truth was he also had some reservations. He wondered if he would be able to make her enjoy what was to come as much as he certainly would. He wished for her to find pleasure in it, not have it as a mere obligation as his wife. He was also self-conscious of exposing himself to her, because of his age. War had marked his body and time, though relatively kind to him, still had passed and had its effects. It was irrational, he knew, for she had no means of comparing him to someone younger, but he could not help it.

“Christopher, my love, I am just very nervous. It is silly, really.”

His hand went to her cheek, touching her soft, warm skin gently with his strong hand. She looked up from her own hands. He smiled and leaned in to press his lips against hers. She met him halfway.

After a moment, he pulled away, not wishing to push her into something she did not yet feel comfortable doing. She smiled at him and lifted the covers for him to get under them with her. He was lost for a moment. Nervous. Though he had done this many times before, it had been a long while since he last had lain with a woman. He had had his share of encounters with young widows, and when he was even younger, he was ashamed to admit it, he had paid for such pleasures. But after some time he had thought it all pointless, for it was never more than what it was. He had never lain with… with someone he loved.

He got under the covers and reached for her cheeks again. He pressed his lips against hers and this time he lingered longer. Her hands were on his forearms and suddenly they slid up. They made their way to the back of his head, and she sank her fingers in his hair. The kiss deepened, their lips interlaced, and she pulled him even closer.

And then the nerves were gone. Hers. His. And she sank into the bed, pulling him down with her.  
Notes:

* Sonnet LXIII from Edmund Spencer's Amoretti.

Chapter 2: Wedding Night  
Chapter Text

Their kisses were more profound than any they had shared before. His tongue parted her lips and made its way through them, and then it caressed her tongue and that made her feel a swarm of butterflies flutter about in the pit of her stomach. A quick study, after a few moments she too moved her tongue to caress his, and the feeling of excitement lowered from her stomach to other areas, as her face and neck became hot.

She could feel a bulge pressing against her thigh while they kissed, and that made her flush even more. One of his hands made its way slowly down her body while the other held her face tenderly, his lips still locked on hers. The hand that travelled down her body made its way to her thigh and lingered there for a moment, before going back up to her waist, only this time, underneath her nightgown. There, he found the waistband of her undergarment and pulled it down gently. She automatically, without much thought, arched her back so he could take it off, all the while still tasting his sweet kisses and holding him close, that feeling in her nether region only building up, and her body burning hot as if the sun shone on her light skin on a hot summer day.

His hand trailed up from the undergarment, now forgotten somewhere under the covers, making its way on the inside of her thighs, and her heart beat faster. He reached her privates and his fingers grazed over her tender skin there, playing, caressing her lightly. Her first instinct was to push his hand away in embarrassment, but before her hand could react to what her mind felt, the embarrassment washed away as excitement regained control. He then parted her gently, proceeding to rub her nub. His lips parted from hers as she gasped with his caress, thinking nothing could feel more wonderful. She tried to hold her composure as she remembered that one of the few things her mother did say was to not show her pleasure, if indeed she felt any. That would be very unladylike. She tried, but it was hard to contain herself. His fingers continued at their task while he kissed her neck, smiling at the small whimpers she let out into his ear while griping his arm.

“If you wish me to stop at any time, you need only say so” he whispered in her ear in between kisses on her neck, and his tender voice only added to the heightened sensations that travelled through her body.

“No. Never,” she managed in between poorly suppressed gasps and moans.

The sudden fear of being too loud and having the servants hear her came over her, adding to the worry of not behaving properly, but it quickly melted away as he continued to caress and kiss her. She gripped his shoulder, needing to feel more of him, to pull him closer, but not knowing quite what to do.

His hand left her privates and she almost felt desperation in its departure. He slowly lifted her gown, his hand gently gliding over her stomach and then her breasts, making all her hairs stand on end.

“I wish to see you, my love. All of you,” he whispered as his hand teased her nipples under her gown and his lips kissed her collarbone. She raised her arms so he could slip off her gown. That he did, and there she was, completely bare, yet she did not feel vulnerable at all.

“You are beautiful,” he said, and kissed her lips.

He moved to take off his own nightshirt, for he too felt temperature building up inside him, and she instinctively reached out her hands to help, craving to touch his bare body. She helped him push his shirt off, caressing his upper body as her hands travelled up with the shirt. She could now see what had been pressing against her thighs pointing through his underdrawers. He did not have the habit of wearing underdrawers beneath his nightshirt, but he did so today to not offend her, as he had not known when he got ready for bed how the evening would turn out.

She, who at this point was sitting up in bed again as he knelt on it before her, reached for the waistband of his underdrawers, but before pulling them down, she looked up at her husband as if seeking approval, which he gave as he smiled and leaned in to passionately kiss her. In a moment’s time he was bare as she was, and she could see his stiff manhood. A bit of fear came back to her as she worried if it would hurt when he placed it inside her, for it seemed too large to fit.

Once again he took her face in between his hands and kissed her, as they sank back into the bed. His lips made their way down to her neck where they lingered for a moment. They journeyed to her collarbone before continuing down to her breasts. The kisses he placed there made her feel more aroused, something she did not think possible, and left her nipples stiffer than they already were. She sank her fingers into his hair, caressing his head, encouraging his kisses. His lips once again moved down her body, past her stomach and down to her privates.

He proceeded to kiss her there and that fiery sensation grew inside her. His kisses there evolved much like the ones on her lips, starting light and innocent and becoming more intense and passionate, his tongue invading her, his lips sucking her, all in the course of one minute.

She felt things she could not explain, she could not even process for the waves of excitement and pleasure travelled through her, depriving her of any ability of coherence she ever had. At first she gasped and tried to cover her mouth with her hands, biting on her knuckles at times to try and keep quiet. However, her caution of not having anyone hear them was quickly thrown to the wind as her moans became involuntarily louder. And her fear of being unladylike was forgotten as well. He must know very well what he was doing to her. He could not expect her to be quiet. Could he? Though she was momentarily blinded by pleasure, her hands were able to find their way to her husband’s head and she caressed his hair, pulling on it lightly when those waves of pleasure ripped through her.

He came up for air, wiping his lips with the back of his hand and smiling, for he was pleased he could make her feel as good as her moans indicated she did. She pulled him up to her, kissing his lips as he rested his body atop hers, and she traced her fingers up and down his back. She could feel all the strong muscles on his backside moving, and could now also feel his manhood pressing against her nether region. That made her ache with desperation to feel him inside her, any fear of pain completely forgotten.

“This might hurt a bit, my love” he said in between nibbles on her ear, already breathing heavily, “but I must have you, I cannot wait any longer. Hopefully it will feel better in a while.”

His hand made its way down between them to guide him inside her, and as he slid in, she felt a burn. Such burn was equal parts pain and desire, but soon the desire overshadowed the pain, making it worth whatever discomfort she had felt.

She gasped, and did not have an ounce of care anymore if the servants heard her or not. The whole village could hear her for all she cared, she simply never wanted this to end.

“Does it hurt, my sweet?” he asked as he moved inside her slowly. “How do you feel?”

“Wonderful.” She moaned. “Fan…uhn…tastic.”

As he looked deep in her eyes, she thought her heart would melt with that piercing hazel-green gaze, and he started to move more, movement which she quickly and instinctively learned to follow. They moved as one. They were one. Their bodies connected while they alternated staring into each other’s eyes and kissing passionately. His forearms supported him beside her head, cradling it, his fingers sunken into her curls.

“My Mary-anne,” he whispered in between heavy breaths, “I love you,” and his voice resonated all through her body, giving her goose bumps and making her quiver beneath him. She wished to respond, to tell him that she loved him too, for she had not said it nearly enough, but all that she could manage was to echo the sounds of pleasure he too was making.

His lips touched hers, her cheek, her neck. When they were not touching her lips, she kissed whatever part of him she could reach, needing to taste him however way possible. Her fingertips sank into his shoulders as they continued to move as one and verbally express their pleasure. She felt an explosion building up inside her, ready to blow at any moment. And then it did, and a tidal wave of pure pleasure flowed through her body and the only words she could manage were “Oh, Chris…!” and she couldn’t even finish saying his name.

When her moment had passed, she felt so wonderfully pleased she wanted to provide that for him as well. In her pleasure induced haze, she found his lips and kissed them, her fingernails gently running down his shoulder blades and his back, her hands finding his buttocks and pulling him even closer to her, further inside.

“I love you, Chris. I love you” she whispered over and over again in between kisses. When she had her strength back, she lifted her legs and dug her heels behind his back, aiding his movements further. He wished to pleasure her once again, but he could not contain himself much longer. Within moments, she could see in his face that the explosion was coming for him as well, and soon she felt it inside her.

His body relaxed on top of hers and their kisses became more tender and soft. He rolled to her side, pulling her so that she rested her head on his shoulder. His fingers played with her curls and he kissed her forehead as he remembered the way she had gasped “Chris” at the height of her pleasure. He liked it very much. No one had ever called him Chris. It could be exclusive to her lips, in the most intimate of times. And she had expressed love yet again. His heart filled with so much joy he did not know what to do with it. Her hand caressed his chest.

“So this is what husbands and wives do…” she smiled playfully.

“It is,” he said also with a smile, his voice becoming sleepy.

“I could easily get used to this, husband.”

“I am glad, for I could not bear to be away from your warmth any night, my Mary-anne.”

“I suffer in anticipation for when you have to go away on business,” she smiled timidly.

“I guess I shall have to bring you with me every time.”

Chapter 3: Under the Moonlight  
Chapter Text

Mary-anne lay still in her husband’s arms. He already slept, deeply breathing into her hair. They lay on their sides, and he had one hand placed firmly on the small of her back, almost on her buttocks, pulling her hips close to his. Their legs were comfortably intertwined. His other arm was resting loosely further up her back. He slept with a tender half smile on his face, and she felt some pride, thinking maybe she might be responsible for that smile. She was. She lay awake, smiling herself, admiring Colonel Brandon. Christopher. Chris. She wondered if he liked being called that, or if she was too bold, took too many liberties. Although, after what happens on one’s wedding night, what happened on their wedding night, she supposed there was no more room for propriety and such nonsense. But she did feel shy and self-conscious, for this was a new level of relationship, of intimacy, she had never had before. Or discussed with anyone before. She did not quite know how she could, or should act. All she knew is that she never wished to disappoint him, for she knew somewhere deep inside her he would never disappoint her.

She had thought she knew what love was, and time and time again she had been proven wrong. She first had ridiculous notions of what love might be, and they were personified by Mr. Willoughby. Oh how she had suffered for him. But that was not love. That was perhaps a strong attraction, at best. Foolishness if she were to be honest. It would not have led to happiness. She still felt ashamed for all that she put her family through. Herself through. Christopher through. And for nothing.

She only started to perceive or accept that had not quite been love much later. It was after some time of Colonel Brandon keeping her company, reading to her and having candid conversations that she came to the realization, rather reluctantly, that that might be love. She had sworn she would never love again, and to be more prudent and reasonable, like Elinor, so it took some time for her to accept it. But he won her over. How could he have not? Only if she were an even bigger fool than she had already been. He was thoughtful, respectable, a true gentleman. He made her feel calm and centered, yet he was passionate at the same time. The evening’s events had further proven that beyond a doubt. They had lengthy conversations as equals, always honest and intelligent. Because of such things, she became, even if unwillingly, more open and less worried about being so proper. She went back to her old ways in some aspects, and he never thought less of her for it.

When he declared his feelings for her, her heart became more open, and so the feelings she had tried so hard to negate rushed in, all made the more intense by his actions towards her. That was certainly love. She was sure. She accepted it. Yet she had managed to keep true to her promise to never form a second attachment, for what she had felt before was not love. Not like this. So this was indeed her first and only love. She loved truly for the first time and surely nothing could be as strong as it.

But there she lay, in his arms. Moonlight was peering through the windows, painting him in yet a different light, one she had never seen before, but would see every day from now on, and she was glad of it. His blond hair fell on his forehead and she brushed it off. She loved the feel of his hair in her hands, in between her fingers. His eyes, though they were closed now, were a beautiful hazel-green and she loved how they looked so deeply into hers, especially when they were alone, when they were… intimate. His lips, which when parted showed a beautiful smile, and when touched against her skin or her own lips made her feel so wonderfully in bliss.

Here she lay, being proved wrong yet again. Her love for him had grown even more. It felt like it was going to explode out of her chest. She hadn’t told him that nearly enough. In trying not to be foolish she ended up being even more of a fool.

Her gaze dropped from his face to his chest, his shoulders, which held her so comfortably, in safety. They were both still bare. The candles had died out and the fireplace did not crackle with the same intensity it once had, at the start of the evening. Yet, other than the cool of the metal of the ring she had given him touching her back, she was not cold. His body warmed hers. There was a scar on his shoulder. She traced it with her fingers while she wondered how he must have obtained it. Surely in war. She worried if it had hurt him too much.

“Mary-anne… is all well?” He asked, still half asleep, his eyes only half open. Though he was not completely awake, he could still manage to worry. Worry he had done some wrong. Worry she was still awake because regret ate away at her. Always that insecurity, haunting him, even though she had finally expressed her love. That had certainly helped, he was a bit more at ease. But it was still too recent, it hadn’t quite sunken in.

“Quite well, my love,” she whispered as she stopped her fingers from tracing his body. “Sorry to have awoken you. Do go back to sleep darling, I promise I will not bother you further.” She snuggled into him.

My love… darling. His heart filled with joy.

“You can never be a bother, love” he said, pulling her closer and kissing her forehead. “I was just worried something might have upset you and kept you awake.”

“Why on earth would I be upset? I have absolutely no reason to be upset. None. Whatsoever.” She smiled into his chest. ”I was just admiring you in the moonlight. Wondering how you got this scar and if it hurt too much.” Her fingers went back to his shoulder and traced the scar, but she quickly removed them, so he could sleep again. “The only thing that upsets me is to think of you in pain.”

He smiled. “It did hurt, but it was a long time ago. In the Indies, in the war.”

She started tracing it again, the scar. He loved the feel of her touch on his body.

“Were you shot?” She sounded a bit alarmed.

“Yes, a few times. But that scar is not the one for any of those particular stories. That one was caused by a stab. I believe they were aiming for my heart. Killing the second in command would have been quite the accomplishment.”

She seemed horrified. He chuckled, eyes still half closed, and pulled her closer still. She touched her lips to his chest.

“Lucky for me they missed, then.”

“The fortune is all mine, for I lived to meet you.”

“But I would be utterly lost without you in my life.” She kissed his scar. He flushed at what she said. “So there are more scars?” She continued, alarmed.

“Yes, a few more.”

“I’d love to hear all their stories. It seems I have to spend more time exploring my husband’s body so I can find them,” she said flirtatiously, and looked at his face, blushing, searching for signs of disapproval, to see if she had been too forward and unladylike.

He just smiled slyly, completely awake now, eyes wide open. His lips touched her cheek and then her own lips, and he said “Well then my dear, explore we shall.”

Chapter 4: Later That Night  
Chapter Text

He gently kissed her lips while her hand slid down from his shoulder to his chest. His lips moved to her neck, and her hand slid further down his body, slightly pushing down the sheets that had covered them up to the waist. She saw a long, thin scar that stretched from his side almost to his navel. As she caressed it, he still planted kisses on her cheek and neck, alternating those with nibbles on her ear.

“What about this one?” she asked, her breath slowly starting to become heavy.

“Someone cut me,” he kissed her lips, “in a brawl in some pub.” His lips found her neck again.

“I did not take you for the type that brawls in pubs,” she smiled as he switched to the other side of her neck.

“I was once young,” a kiss, “and sad,” another, “and foolish. A dangerous combination.”

Her heart grew heavy. It made sense. After what he had been through at such a young age, a few nights in a pub were to be expected. She wished she could have been there to hold him and make him feel better. Mend him. Like he did her. She never wished to see him sad ever again.

“Did it hurt?”

“Is was not very deep. And I was very drunk. So no.” His lips trailed further down and found a breast. She smiled.

“Drunk. You are full of surprises, husband.” She cupped his face in between her hands and pulled him up to her lips. Her tongue caressed his as she had so recently learned. His hand slid down to her buttocks and as their lips parted, he nipped her lower lip. As he started on her neck again, she pulled the covers further down. On his thigh she saw yet another scar. Her fingers traced it.

He kissed her lips again, and before she could ask, he let out, in between kisses:

“Gunfire. In the war. Grazed my leg. I believe it was the only time…someone shot at me and didn’t miss.” He kissed her lips more passionately as his hand slid in between her legs and found her mound. With a gasp, she was quickly reminded of how good that felt, and where it had gotten her last time. She wished to do the same for him. Provide him with the same sensations. But she was not sure if she should. Her hand slowly slid from his thigh to his manhood. It was not rigid as before, yet she started to fondle him, a little reluctantly.

“That,” he purred in her ear, wearing a sly smile, “is not a scar.” He kissed her cheek.

“Is … this alright, husband?” She whispered in his ear, as he nibbled on hers.

“Quite. But you may have to be patient. It might take some time. I am not a young man anymore,” he said with some shame. He didn’t like her being reminded of their age difference. It might turn her away from him. She noticed some worry flash in his eyes.

“Is that so?” She kissed his neck and continued the deed as his breathing became heavier and he lost a bit of focus on what he had been doing with his fingers between her thighs. “You certainly feel very young. You are profoundly… passionate, my love.” She kissed his lips. Within moments he was stiff once more. Maybe he wasn’t as old as he thought. Her fingers wrapped around his girth as she started to stroke him. His hand completely left her privates and cupped her hand, guiding her movement and the pressure she applied.

“Is it alright if… I kiss you? Down there, as you did me? Or is that not acceptable?” She asked, hesitant.

“That is very acceptable to me.” His voice slightly turned hoarse as he got lost in the movements she performed. “But you should not feel obligated…”

“I wish to,” she whispered.

She went down in between his legs and started kissing his manhood, her hands still mimicking the movement he had taught. She proceeded to licking his length, and looked up at him, seeking approval.

“That is wonderful, my love.” He rested his head back on the pillows, giving in to her caresses.

She then placed as much as she could of him in her mouth. He grunted as she moved her lips up and down his length, her hand aiding in his pleasure where her mouth could not reach.

Soon, his hands were on her shoulders, pulling her up quickly as he sat up himself. In another quick movement, he pulled her to his lap, her legs mounting his, but his manhood not in her heat.

“Did you not enjoy it?” she asked, hurt that she might have displeased him and yet aroused by the firm manner in which he had pulled her to him.

“I loved it, my dear, but I do not wish to be spent in your mouth. I wish to please you as well.” He pulled her curls back from her face and kissed her, deeply. They both breathed heavily as she rolled her hips on his length. She felt excitement ooze from her.

“Chris…” she whispered in between kisses.

“Yes, my Mary-anne?” he purred.

“I want… no. I need you inside of me,” she said, her arousal eclipsing her worries of being improper.

His excitement grew with her words and he almost lost control, even before entering her. He quickly slid inside her heat. Their movements were again synchronized, growing more and more rapid. Her moans and his grunts filled the room and completed one another, like in a melody.

“I love you” she said. “So very much.” She kissed him, gently biting his lip as her fingers ran through his hair.

“I love you more.” He nipped her chin before kissing her neck.

His fingers ran down her spine, which made her hairs stand on end. She gasped and thrust harder against him. Her nails pressed against his shoulder blades as she gripped him tighter. The explosion came once more.

“Oh Chris, yes!” she hissed, and this time, he climaxed with her, his vehement agreement mixing with hers.

She threw her head back, leaving her neck exposed to be kissed softly. Her body relaxed and she let go of her grip on him and lay back, as he followed, lying on top of her. She liked the pressure of his weight on her. Their lips met.

“You might have left me some new scars.” He smiled, and kissed her cheek.

“Forgive me, my love” she said as she caressed his shoulders, where her nails had sunken into him.

“It’s quite alright. I quite enjoyed obtaining these scars.”

“Christopher?” she let out in between kisses.

“Huuum?” he managed.

“I want to stay in this room forever with you.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek, then nibbled her ear. He then purred:

 

Coming to kiss her lips, (such grace I found)

Me seemed I smelled a garden of sweet flowers,

That dainty odors from them threw around

For damsels fit to deck their lovers' bowers.

Her lips did smell like unto Gillyflowers,

Her ruddy cheeks like unto Roses red:

Her snowy brows like budded Bellamores,

Her lovely eyes like Pinks but newly spread.

Her goodly bosom like a strawberry bed,

Her neck like to a bunch of Columbines:

Her breast like Lillies, ere their leaves be shed,

Her nipples like young blossomed Jasmines.

Such fragrant flowers do give most odorous smell,

But her sweet odor did them all excel. *

 

She smiled and ran her fingers up and down his back as he recited her the poem. Would it always be like this? Romantic and passionate, just as she had imagined, just as she had hoped. She remembered her silly fears on the eve of their wedding, and rejoiced in knowing she had made the right decision. Finally. When it most counted.  
Notes:

*Sonnet LXIV - Edmund Spencer's Amoretti.

Chapter 5: The Next Morning  
Chapter Text

Colonel Brandon lay on his side, his head propped up by his hand. He watched as the morning sun came in through the window and shone on his wife. His wife. How wonderful it felt to call her that. He smiled while she stirred a bit in bed. His smile grew wider when he remembered she had expressed her love towards him. More than once. Still, he was not accustomed to this, being happy, everything working in his favor, so there was still insecurity in the back of his mind that this might all be taken away from him. But he forced himself to ignore it and enjoy the moment. Yet, since her confusion had only been cleared recently, he thought it best to tread lightly, as to not smother her with all the love he felt inside.

The sunlight touched her closed eye lids and she awoke to see him watching her, with the sweetest smile on his lips.

“Good morning, Mrs. Brandon.”

“I shall never grow tired of being called that,” she said with a sleepy smile, “but I prefer to hear your sweet voice calling me yours.”

He smiled. “My Mary-anne,” and stroked her cheek, “did you sleep well?”

“Wonderfully. But I have a question. Why are you so far from me?” she asked as she moved closer to him and kissed his lips.

He smiled again, very pleased with all these displays of affection. He put his arm around her as he said “I did not wish to disturb your sleep.”

“Disturb? I have discovered I sleep more soundly when I feel your warmth against my skin.” She put her arms around him also. They kissed once again and this time, they lingered longer.

“What does the mistress of the house wish for her breakfast?”

“I’ll have whatever the master is having.”

He kissed her forehead and moved away from her, to get up from bed. He sat up, his feet touching the floor and his back to her as he looked for his nightshirt.

She moved closer behind him and kissed his bare shoulders and asked in a whisper

“Wherever do you think you are going?”

“The last thing I wanted, my love, was to leave your side, but I must go and make us breakfast. I took the liberty of giving the servants the next couple of days of rest so I can spend time alone with my lovely bride”. He put on his nightshirt and stood up. “I do hope the mistress does not mind.” He bowed in jest.

“If that is the case, I do not need breakfast. Come back to bed and spend some time with that lovely bride you mentioned.” She smiled, as did he.

“I will be right back, my Mary-anne.”

 

She took the time she had alone to find her own nightgown and cover herself. She then stared into space, out the window, to the clear blue skies and the sunlight that shone in their room, smiling amazed at how happy and satisfied she felt. He came back with a delicious array of fruits and biscuits, eggs and toast on a tray, so they could have breakfast in bed. Their meal was constantly interrupted by the exchange of tender caresses or kisses.

When they were done, he suggested they go for a walk down to the village so she could see it and the people could meet her, and then perhaps they could visit Elinor if she wished, for the next day or the day after they would be off in their wedding trip. They both went to their respective dressing rooms to get changed.

Both were going about their morning routine thinking how extraordinarily happy they were, but each had their own set of worries. He, with that creeping insecurity of being too forward, too open, too hungry for her love, which he still wasn’t sure was as profound as what he felt, and scaring her away into being more reserved. Although, the previous night’s and this morning’s events had set his heart slightly more at ease. She was worried she hadn’t properly shown him how much she did love him, and did not want to hurt or displease him in anyway. She wasn’t even sure one could possibly show so much love.

He finished dressing before she did, as gentlemen often do, and waited for her in the bedchamber. But he was impatient. He wished to be by her side every minute of every day. So he knocked on her door before opening it slightly. She beckoned from within.

“Christopher, my dear. I seem to be having difficulties buttoning up my dress. It is very hard to do alone.” She turned her back to him, and he saw half of it bare. He stepped closer to her and brushed her curls aside, leaving her neck exposed so he could plant kisses on it. Sweet, soft kisses. She giggled, and his hands started undoing the buttons she had managed to close on her own, all the while still kissing her neck and shoulder.

“Dearest, button up, not down” she said amidst giggles.

“Oh, pardon me, I seem to have misheard you” he said in a playful tone.

She turned to him, and took her hands up to the back of his neck, where she played with his hair. He smiled as his heart filled with love. Looking into his eyes, she started

“Christopher, my love, I do not think it is possible for one to love more than I love you. I am the happiest I have ever been.” She then whispered in his ear “I am entirely and forever yours,” and proceeded to kissing his lips.

Never in his life had he been happier.

 

Chapter 6: Wedding Trip  
Chapter Text

 

They had planned a wedding trip during their betrothal and left two days after the wedding. They were to spend more or less a month at a cabin by the lakes, but the trip alone usually took four days. The first two days ran rather smoothly. Stolen kisses and tender caresses in the carriage, pleasant – extremely pleasant – walks in the woods while the horses rested, passionate nights as they stopped at the lodging houses to rest. One can rightly assume that not much rest was done.

On the third day, however, the roads were wet. It had been a rainy night – not that they had noticed – and the roads were muddy, which caused the carriage ride to become bumpy. That made for an uncomfortable ride, in addition to holding them back, for the horses moved more slowly. Colonel Brandon tried to cradle his wife, make the ride more comfortable for her, but when they stopped for their nightly rest and she tried to make a joke about their troubles – for she had vowed to always make him laugh, something he hadn’t done much of that day – though he smiled, he seemed a bit frustrated. They were both very tired and for the first night since their wedding they simply slept in each other’s arms, without further activities.

The fourth day was not much better. They were supposed to be at their destination already, but that was only to be expected in two days, with luck. Kisses could not be stolen in the carriage, for the bumps in the road could cause some injury. Once again, Colonel Brandon was quieter than usual, and Mary-anne, who could see the frustration in his countenance, did not even attempt a joke this time. Again they went to bed without the passionate adventures which had been often since their wedding, and which Mary-anne grew to enjoy and expect rather rapidly. She was slightly hurt. Though he had not shown in any way that he might be displeased with her, she wondered if it was she who had done something to make him quiet as he was.

The roads were finally dry and acceptable on the fifth day, though there was no change in the spirits of the newlywed. Colonel Brandon, in his frustration and urge to arrive as quickly as possible, had even forgone shaving and looked rather unkept. He did not care much though, no one was to see him during the carriage ride but his wife. Mary-anne thought it was a charming look for him but said nothing in fear of further displeasing him. On the sixth day, before supper, they finally arrived at their destination. Colonel Brandon had already been suffering pains to his shoulder and his back due to the uncomfortable rides, but had not expressed anything of the sort. They had been, after all, tolerable, much like what he usually had after long rides on his horse.

But that changed when he helped one of the servants they had taken with them – Joseph, who had also served as the coachman for the trip – to unload the trunks from the carriage. Mary-anne saw him wince and grew worried, but dared not inquire in front of others. She went into the kitchen with Violet, the maid they had brought who also happened to be Joseph’s wife, to organize things for supper.

During their meal, Mary-anne noticed that his shoulder bothered him. Though she too had grown quieter due to her husband’s own behavior, she asked:

“Is everything all right, dear?”

“Yes. Are you all right?” He did not wish to admit to his pain, for fear of reminding her that he was much older than she was, and prone to such bothers always.

When they went to their chamber, as he tried to pull on his nightshirt, she saw an expression of pain once again invade his countenance.

“Christopher, let me rub some ointment on your shoulder. I can see it is bothering you.”

“No need, I am well” he said as he gave up pulling on his nightshirt and prepared to go to bed bare.

“I can see you are not well!”

“I’ve told you I am, there is no need for you to worry” he said rather curtly.

“Colonel Brandon, do you want a wife or not?” She asked briskly, her temper rising as he acted so stubbornly.

Her question, along with the fact that she had called him so formally, as if they weren’t alone, felt like a punch to his stomach. He realized he hadn’t been the best of husbands in the past few days and she had every reason to be frustrated with him. He sat on the bed and looked up at her, apologetically, as she stood there in front of him, looking rather annoyed and waiting for an answer.

“Of course I want a wife.”

“Then let me care for you!”

“Forgive me. I suppose I am not accustomed to having someone care for me,” he let out.

She got the ointment from the medicine box and sat behind him in bed. She then proceeded to gently rub ointment on his shoulder.

Her touch on his skin felt wonderful. “I suppose… I suppose you can rub some on my back also, if it is not too much trouble” he said rather timidly, ashamed of how he had acted.

She asked him to lie down on his belly so she could rub his back properly. At first, she kneeled on the bed beside him as she tried to massage his shoulders and back, but that was not a comfortable position for her. She then, innocently, straddled him over his buttocks so she could massage him from there, where she reached the whole of his back with no discomfort. She had lost the habit of sleeping with garments under her nightgown, for they so frequently got in the way at some point of the evening. Therefore, he could feel the heat of her sex on him while her hands glided up and down his back, gently squeezing his shoulders at times. He felt himself grow against the mattress, but he still also felt ashamed for the way he had treated her, and afraid she would refuse him. So he did nothing.

She too was aroused as she felt him in between her thighs, but dared not act on it, especially since his mood had not been very agreeable. Soon the ointment dried up, and she felt it best to stop the massage before she got more excited, only to, once again, go to sleep feeling only frustration.

“Does that feel at least a bit better?”

“Yes, it does, my love.”

“Wonderful.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek. He felt her breasts press against his back and had to master himself, hold back the urge of turning and throwing her on the bed right then to ravish her.

“I love you” she said, and got off of him. As she got under the covers, she laid on her side, her back to him. “Good night, Christopher.”

He turned and got under the covers as well. Laying on his back, and staring at the ceiling, chastising himself for his behavior, he gathered up the courage to speak. He turned to her and embraced her from behind, careful to not let his arousal be felt, and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“My sweet Mary-anne, please say you’ll forgive me.”

“I am always inclined to.” She smiled, though he could not see it.

“I wished for everything to be perfect for you and became frustrated when the trip became uncomfortable and lengthy. And the quieter you grew, the more I was sure you were disappointed in me.”

She turned her torso to face him. “Christopher! You have no control over the weather, my love, you are not to blame! I would never be disappointed in you. Simply being beside you makes it all perfect.” She pressed her lips against his. “I became quiet because you were grave and distant. I thought I had done something to displease you.”

“What a fool I have been, forgive me. You could never displease me. Please say you’ll forgive me.”

“I do forgive you,” she giggled. “I believe we need to learn better communication skills,” she said, while he kissed her forehead. “I declare we should make a vow to always be open and honest about how we feel, to avoid misunderstandings such as these from now on.”

“I agree” he said with a smile. “And I propose we seal it with a kiss.” They shared a deep kiss that made Mary-anne flush red. However, she smiled and turned her back to him once more, lying on her side as before, since she knew that he would not wish to do anything. They might have cleared up the misunderstanding, but he was still in pain.

He again embraced her from behind, his unshaven chin rubbing on her neck and making the hairs on her body stand on end.

“In the spirit of that vow, my Mary-anne, I must confess…”

“Yes?”

“I did not wish you to know I was in pain.”

“Why not? I would like to care for you, husband, and you would take that away?”

“It is just a reminder to you that I am an old man.”

She turned to face him once more.

“I thought between the two of us I was the one more inclined to silliness, Christopher,” she smiled and cupped one hand over his cheek. “I do not care about your age,” she said, remembering the rude comments she had once made, with pain in her heart. “Your age and experience are what make you the wonderful man you are, the man I love. And it is perfectly normal to be uncomfortable after ridding for three days in such conditions and lifting all those heavy trunks. For anyone. I myself am a little sore. It is not worse because you eased my discomfort.” She smiled. “So let me care for you as you care for me, silly Christopher.” She kissed him.

She was still a bit shy in some matters of married life. Though she knew her husband was a gentle, understanding man, she couldn’t help but feel insecure about some things, which was a new feeling for her, who used to usually always be ready to say whatever was on her mind. But she felt bold and felt that in the spirit of curing her husband’s insecurities, there would be no trouble in saying what she would say next.

“Besides, I could never think of you as an old man after all the things you have made me experience in the privacy of our chambers.”

She turned her back to him again, blushing.

He smiled, a bit proud of himself. “Oh? Only good experiences I hope.”

“Amazing experiences,” she said, blushing further and unable to face him again. “Simply the sound of your voice is enough to drive me out of my mind.”

His hand slid over her stomach and he kissed her neck, his stubble tickling her and making her quiver. “Is that so?” He whispered in her ear and he felt her body quicken. He nibbled on her ear and now she could feel his stiffness touching her backside.

“It’s been so long, I thought you did not want me anymore,” she half whispered, half moaned.

“Only if I were completely mad,” he whispered in her ear, as he pulled up her nightgown.

“What of your shoulder? It will feel worse.”

“I have been miraculously cured, my love. You must have a magical touch.”

His hand stopped sliding up her body to rest on her stomach again as he worked on her neck. She placed her hand on his and guided it down to find her privates.

“So do you, lover” she said as he started to touch her mound in the way she enjoyed so. She moaned in pleasure and he could not resist it, so he slid inside her from behind while still rubbing her nub. Her hand reached back to his buttocks, grabbing it to aid him. When he was completely filling her emptiness, her hand reached to the back of his head, and she ran her fingers through his hair, gently pulling it at times. As he thrust inside her and touched her bud of nerves, he kissed her neck, his stubble tickling her back and shoulder. It was all too much for her to endure and she quickened in pleasure. Soon, she was over the edge, biting the pillow to muffle her screams, as the cabin was smaller than the manor, and though the servants’ quarters were outside, they were still relatively closer. Though she was satisfied, he was not done with her yet.

He pulled out of her, still rigid, and turned her over to mount him in a quick firm motion. She leaned down to kiss his lips, and he pulled off her nightgown, to see her bare, to see her whole. As his hands glided along her sides, pulling up the gown, she gasped and quivered once again. He guided himself back inside her and she moaned and bit her lip. That sight made him swell inside her. She kissed his lips again and then sat up, beginning to softly circle her hips. Her hands were on his chest for support, and his slid up from her buttocks to her waist, where he encouraged her movement.

As he saw her bounce on top of him and throw back her head, he remembered that not so long ago he longed to simply touch her hand with his bare, ungloved hand as he helped her step out of a carriage. Not even in his wildest dreams could he have imagined he would be touching all of her, that she would be responding to his caress in such an euphoric and pleasurable way. She was his, truly his. He was on the verge of climaxing as his fingers sunk into her hips and hers sunk into his chest, indicating she too was on the edge. But he wished for it to last longer, so he turned her onto her back and pulled away from her once again. As he kissed her lips and made his way down to her neck, she softly moaned in his ear

“Chris, stop teasing me.”

He smiled slyly. “No,” and made his way down her body with his lips and tongue, taking his time when he reached her breasts. His hands rested beside her head, and she kissed his forearm, for she needed some part of him, any part of him, on her lips. He made his way further down, his stubble tickling her all the way, and she quickened under him.

His lips arrived at her thighs, and as he kissed their inner side, his stubble still rubbing her skin, she arched her back in pleasure.

“Chris, you are driving me insane.”

“Good.”

He proceeded to kiss her nether region. She bit her lips not to scream his name and grabbed the sheets, almost ripping them. When he saw she was about to burst in pleasure, he stopped and moved up to her lips, taking her hands up above her head and holding them there as he once again filled her core. Their fingers were interlaced as he held her hands in place and she squeezed his. He began to thrust softly, looking into her eyes. After some time, she managed to free one hand, and took it down to his buttocks, squeezing him and pulling him closer. He understood her silent plea and began to move more firmly and rapidly. As they breathed heavily, she took her hand up his back, her fingers gently tracing the path, and he grunted as he kissed her lips. Her hand arrived where it was resting before, over her head, and he once again held it. His neck became exposed for a moment as he moved atop her and she took the opportunity to lick its full length.

“I love you” he said, looking deep in her eyes.

“Yes. Love. So. Much” she said in between gasps, her voice failing her.

They both lost control, climaxing together.

When their spasms of pleasure had stopped and their bodies were relaxed, he kissed her lips gently. He was about to roll over to her side when she embraced him and locked her legs behind his back.

“No. Stay.” She smiled, her voice sleepy. She liked the weight of him atop her and felt empty without him. He kissed her once more and smiled.

It was the beginning of a blissful month.  
Notes:

\- The fic I mentioned: http://www.pemberley.com/derby/karenb4.eoal.html . It is by Karen B. and it is very good, if you haven't read it, you really should. I should re-read it even. :D There are other parts to it, before and after, which are all linked in this post: http://www.onwednesdays.net/spotlight-on-fanfiction/ (which is not mine either, by the way.)

Chapter 7: Stargazing  
Chapter Text

The cabin in which they were staying was amongst many trees, a delightfully wooded area, and despite the tree tops not being entirely dense, one could not see the sky properly from the cabin or its close surroundings. There was, however, a clear path from the house to the lake, which did not sit too far. At its margins, a small row boat, surely intended to provide a fuller experience of spending the holidays at such scenery.

Though they did have some neighbors at their honeymoon location, the Brandons had not encountered many. Most houses seemed to either be empty and closed, for the owners were not on holiday, or relatively distant. That made their time together as a newlywed couple all the sweeter, for they could have picnics and take the long walks they so enjoyed while being loving to one another, sharing kisses and tender caresses, walking hand in hand without much worry of being seen. They had even had audacious outings in distant groves and well protected caves, outings which would be scandalous if interrupted by passers-by.

Today, Colonel Brandon wished to take Mary-anne out on the row boat, so they might watch the sunset from the water. He presented this idea to her, and she, rather reluctantly, accompanied him to where the boat floated. When they reached it and he offered his hand to aid her in, she hesitated.

“What is the matter?” He asked.

“I am scared. I don’t recall ever being on a boat. What if I fall in the water?”

“I thought you rather enjoyed getting wet,” he grinned.

She smiled, trying to hold back laughter. “It is not the same. One cannot drown in the rain as can occur in a very large body of water,” she pointed to the lake.

“You know I would die before I let anything harmful befall you, right? But if you do not feel comfortable doing this, we need not go.”

She saw the warmth and security in his eyes and decided to take his hand and step into the boat. He held her until she was seated, then pushed the boat out. She held onto the edges tight as it drifted out and he jumped on board.

He sat across from her, his boots wet from having to step into the water to push the boat, his arm muscles bulging, she observed, making his shirt slightly tighter as he pushed to row it. They made it relatively far from the shore, but not quite to the middle of the lake, which was very large. She never once let go of the edge of the boat.

He stopped rowing and offered his hands.“Come, sweetheart.” She took them but sat in place. “Do not be afraid, I’ve got you now,” and he pulled slightly to encourage her to come closer to him. She got up and turned to sit in between his thighs, with her back against his chest and her head resting on one of his shoulders. He held her close and tight. This made her feel so safe and protected, and thus she relaxed.

As the boat was afloat, they watched the skies, now completely visible, turn from a light blue into shades of pink and lavender. The sun slowly bid farewell, making its way down behind a far-away mountain.

“You seem to have forgotten your fear” he said into her ear, smiling.

“Well yes. That is because I feel safe in your arms.”

He smiled wider. He liked the notion of her trusting him, allowing him to hold her so.

Shades of night blue started to descend above them and now the stars began to show their light.“Do you see those stars right there”, he pointed, “those seven that shine brightest?”

“Yes,” she answered as she caressed one of his hands under hers.

“That is the Plough”.

“Do you master all subjects known to man, or do you only seem so perfect in my eyes?” She turned her head to look at him smiling as she still caressed his hands. One held her under her breasts, the other sat on one of her thighs.

His heart filled with so much warmth and love, it could explode. To think she could ever view him as being perfect, it still seemed very unreal to him. “I assure you it is only in your eyes,” he chuckled. “But I shall enjoy it for as long as it lasts.” He kissed the top of her head and continued. “The Plough is part of a bigger constellation called…”

“Ursa Major,” she interrupted. “You see, sir, I too know of some things.” She smiled as he nibbled on her ear.

“Yes you do. And you are true perfection; it is not just in my eyes.”

“I am sure you are wrong but I will not argue for that is what good wives do,” she smiled as he chuckled in her ear.

It was becoming rather dark and it was best to get back to shore. Colonel Brandon let go of Mary-anne to be able to row them back. She complained.

“I shall feel better if I can hold on to you somehow.”

He smiled. “How do you propose I row the boat then?”

She made her way around him, not letting go of him for one second. She sat on the edge of the board he sat on, her legs folded to one side, and held him from behind, her chest on his back, her cheek resting against one shoulder blade, her arms around him at the waist, hands going upwards and resting on his chest.

“Will this do?” she asked smiling.

“Oh yes, it certainly will.”

As he rowed them back to shore, she caressed his chest and her hands sometimes slipped down to his stomach. She kissed his shoulder and wished there were no clothes hindering her lips from reaching his warm skin. She still would not dare initiate these much more intimate encounters married couples had, though she enjoyed them as much as her husband seemed to, but it could certainly be arranged for later.

Even though they had been married for a little over a week now, his heart still beat fast at her caresses, as if they were the first he had ever received. His stomach was in knots with the excitement of having her be so tender and open towards him, something he had dreamed about for so long, and it filled his chest to the point of overflowing. Happiness. Bliss. He had it.

As they came to shore and he let go of the oars, he took one of her hands from his chest and kissed it, getting up to push the boat further into land. He then took her hand so she could step out of the boat. It was already dark and the lanterns had been hung up to make their way brighter and safer.

“I believe all that rowing has had an effect on my shoulder. I could use one of your massages,” he said with a sly smile as she took his arm and they walked to the cabin. She giggled and squeezed his arm.

“That could be arranged.”

Chapter 8: An Adventurous Couple  
Chapter Text

It was an exceptionally hot day, especially considering autumn was almost upon them. Staying in the cabin was borderline unbearable, even with all the windows open, so they decided to go for a long walk, to explore areas further from their temporary home, areas they hadn’t yet had the opportunity of exploring.

Their walk was filled with stolen kisses and caresses, and sweet nothings whispered to one another. They could be bolder since there were not many people around, and the few who had been their also temporary neighbors in this most wonderful trip were already setting back to their homes.

After a while of roaming and wandering, they were lead to a river, in an area that was wooded. The river ran smoothly and quietly, but it was not so shallow and it was relatively wide. There was no bridge in sight for them to cross it, so they decided to walk along it for a while before heading back. It did not take them long to come upon a depression, a work of nature, where the river fell in a waterfall – not a tall one – and formed a calm pool before falling once more and following its course.

The water in the pool was crystal clear and for the most part, you could see the stones on the bottom of the river. But there were some parts which were very deep and the water became dark before any indication of the bottom could be seen. In those parts one’s feet certainly could not touch the stones.

Colonel Brandon firmly held his bride’s hand as he escorted her down the rustic steps the large rocks on the riverbank formed. They found a rock that was close to the water, but not enough so that it would be wet, and stood on it, admiring the view of the water rushing down into the pool, forming a waterfall not taller than Colonel Brandon himself.

Mary-anne took support on one of her husband’s arms and lowered herself to sit on the rock.

“It is so beautiful,” she said, as she was one to always love nature.

“It is” he agreed as he sat down beside her. “Very inviting for a swim, especially on a day such as this one, would you not say?” He grinned.

“I do not know how to swim, love, so I would have to say no.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I have never been presented with the opportunity or the need to learn. And you?”

“I’ve had both the opportunity and the need.”

“Is that so?” she leaned in to kiss his lips, since she noticed they had been there for quite a while and no one had passed by.

“Yes” he started when their lips parted. “I do not think you have had the time to notice, but there is a canal behind our house, beyond our garden.”

“Is there? How lovely!”

“I swam there as a child, much against my mother’s wishes.”

She smiled. “Naughty Christopher.”

“And in the war, there were many times we needed to attack by a river. Swimming through it was certainly stealthier than descending on the enemy in boats.”

She smiled up at him as she leaned back on both her arms. She was always amazed at how much he had to share, how much he had lived through. They had talked and shared so much, yet there was always something new to learn about him.

“I could teach you if you wish,” he offered with a kiss on her cheek.

“You surprise me, husband. I would think you would not wish me to get wet out in the open, for fear of my health,” she smiled.

“Running water is supposed to be good for your health.” He kissed her smiling lips. “Besides, on a day such as this, it is really very hard to catch a chill.”

She laughed. “It is. But I think I shall remain dry today. Perhaps you can teach me when we are back home.”

After a brief moment contemplating the view, he turned to her.

“Would you mind terribly if I went for a swim?”

“You do not need my permission, Christopher my darling.”

“Oh, but I do. ‘With my body I thee worship’, remember? I cannot expose myself without your consent.” He smiled. “I am yours.”

She blushed at his words and smiled timidly. He was truly the sweetest man. She kissed him and said

“You may go for a swim, Christopher.”

She watched as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and untied his cravat. She had to restrain herself to not help him undress, as she so loved to do. Her mind started to drift to very recent memories and she had to force herself to come back to reality. There would be time for that later.

He remained with only his white linen shirt on, folding his clothes neatly and placing them on the rock beside her. He then took off his boots and trousers, remaining with his underdrawers. He stepped down to the rock closest to the water. Though there were parts of the bank on which one could walk into the water and submerge one’s body progressively, they sat beside deeper water, so she watched as her husband dove into it. He emerged and shook his head, to get the hair out of his face, and his hand ran through his hair, pulling it back.

“The water is nice. Very refreshing.” He smiled. She smiled back at him and watched as he found a stone that stood out of the water and sat upon it, with his feet still submerged.

She was quickly learning she could not resist the sight of her husband’s bare – or nearly bare – body. She watched as droplets of water ran down his chest where his buttons were open, exposing some skin, and observed how the linen of his shirt clung to his strong arms and that of his underdrawers clung to his thighs. She was becoming aroused and hungered to have his arm around her, his body against hers. She could almost see his manhood through the cloth that covered it. She would have been able to, had he not arranged himself so that the drawers would not cling to it. She also admired how very spontaneous and bold he was being. A few months ago, she would never have thought that Colonel Brandon was capable of such things. It was one of the reasons that had made her so rude and closed off to him, thinking he was a boring old man. But she rejoiced in seeing this recently uncovered side of him. Though she married and loved him without knowing this to be possible, the little part of the old reckless Mary-anne that remained inside of her was very pleased to see she could have a partner in her crimes.

As she looked at him admiringly, he watched her, curious as to what she might be thinking. She noticed it, and tried hard not to blush, to not give herself away. She still was not sure if it was acceptable for her to feel and think such things. She had not had many discussions about the subject prior to her wedding, but all indicated that men were the ones who had such desires, and ladies were only meant to please their husbands and bear children. Though her husband was very generous and loving in such aspects and stimulated her to feel such things, she was still fearful of being too forward and improper. Unlady like. She did not wish to displease him.

“You amaze me, my love,” she said when she saw he still watched her with curious eyes.

“Why is that, sweetheart?”

“Just a little over a fortnight ago I would never have imagined you to be the kind of man who disrobes outside of the privacy of his dressing room, much less one who swims in waterfalls. So bold and adventurous. You are a man of many layers.” She smiled.

“My Mary-anne, you were the one who slowly made me so. It all started on that sweet day on which you accepted to be my wife. I myself had forgotten I could be like this. It is all due to love,” he smiled. “Does it displease you?”

“Not at all. Each new discovery only makes me love you more.” She blew him a kiss. “In fact, I believe you have convinced me. I wish to learn how to swim, if you will still teach me.”

“Of course, my love” he said as he went back into the water and swam to where she was sitting. She took off her dress and shoes, looking around to make sure no one appeared. She remained in her chemise and undergarments, and slid down to the rock from which he had dived. He waited for her inside the pool. She slowly slid down the rock, lowering herself into the water. When her legs were halfway in, he held her by the waist.

“Do not fear, I have got you.”

She smiled and let go of the rock behind her as he finished lowering her into the water. She held on to his shoulders.

“What is the first lesson?”

He smiled and kissed her, and proceeded to teach her. First she needed to float. Though she was scared, she trusted he would hold her and relaxed. He noticed how her chemise clung to her breasts, and began to think perhaps they could have more than swimming lessons there.

They continued for a while as he taught her to kick her legs as he held her hands and guided her around the pool, and later she tried to hold her breath under water. But soon the lessons became more playful, and they found themselves in a corner as he pressed her back against a rock from the river bank and passionately kissed her lips as her hands ran through his wet hair.

He moved to her neck, kissing her cheek on his way down, as she nibbled his ear and gently ran her nails up his back. She wrapped her legs around his hips and one hand caressed his hair as the other made its way down in between their bodies to his manhood. She reached it underwater and stroked it once before he moved away from her.

“No, Mary-anne, stop.”

She looked at him confused and slightly hurt. He saw the hurt in her eyes.

“Please do not look at me like that, my love.”

“Does… does my touch not please you?”

“How could you even think that?” He caressed her cheek. “Of course it does! I just think it best for us not to begin anything here. We might be seen.”

Even though they had had some outdoorsy adventures, it was always in more secluded locations. He felt they were too out in the open and though no one had been seen during all the time they were there, someone could come along. Having a swim and teaching one’s wife how to swim was more acceptable and easier to be explained.

“Now come, let us go back to the cabin, so I can show you just how much your touch does please me” he said with a smile as he lifted her up to the rock. He then followed her out of the water.

She pulled on her dress and put on her shoes. While waiting for him, she admired as he put on his many layers of clothes.

“May I say something to you, dear husband?”

“Of course, my love. Always.”

“And you promise to not be cross with me and let me know gently if it displeases you if I say such things?”

“My Mary-anne, I have told you before, you can always be yourself and speak your mind to me. It is who I love. That impulsive and strong-headed, yet sweet woman.” He smiled.

She stepped closer to him and reached up to his ear as he leaned down and put one arm around her waist. Then she whispered

“I very much enjoy the sight of your wet body. My wish is to thoroughly lick you dry.” She blushed furiously, slightly ashamed of how bold she had been, but not able to refrain from her strong desire for him any longer. He arched and eyebrow and smiled.

“Well perhaps then we can find a more secluded location before we reach the cabin and before I dry off completely.”

Chapter 9: The Stables  
Chapter Text

The Brandons had been married for nearly two months now. They had taken a wedding trip for a month and were now getting settled at home, getting accustomed to the routine of marriage, and Mary-anne, to the implications of being mistress of a place such as Delaford.

It was a Sunday, and after attending church and Elinor’s house for tea, Mary-anne and Colonel Brandon were about to take their usual – if one could call it that after only one month – ride. Colonel Brandon was a good, generous man and would give the servants the day off whenever he foresaw they would not be much needed. It was the case with the stable hands today. The horses were tended to early in the morning, and he himself could saddle a couple of horses for him and his wife, so he had sent them home. He was saddling their horses while Mary-anne watched his every move. His strong arms lifting the saddles onto the horses. His blond, thick hair blowing in the gentle breeze. His gentle touch as he soothed the horses.

The truth was her husband had awakened in her a thirst for the pleasures of the flesh. She still loved these innocent encounters, as if he were still courting her. Their walks, their rides, the duets they played, the poems he read to her, all made butterflies flutter about in her stomach as if it were the first time. But the passionate, intimate touches that usually came with the evenings, in the privacy of their bedchamber, made it all that much better.

They had not gone many nights – and some days – without being intimate in the short time they had been married. The previous night, unfortunately, had been one of them.

Colonel Brandon had business in Bath and did not wish to spend a night away from his wife, so he rode practically all day, to resolve his business, and then to come back to Mary-anne. She waited impatiently, missing him every moment, being it the first time they had been apart for such a long time. She visited villagers with Elinor, she took care of her household duties, she sewed, she played at the pianoforte.

When he got home, though, he was so very tired, and after they had supper and told each other of the events of the day, he held her in bed and fell asleep. Mary-anne loved sleeping in his arms, but she was not yet tired. She hungered for something more.

She still was shy and not sure if it was acceptable for her to initiate those types of activities, or if it was only the husband’s duty. Her husband had yet to disapprove of any behavior of hers, but it also hadn’t been said in plain words that it was acceptable. Maybe it was unlady-like to have such desires, maybe it would not be proper to require one’s husband to perform such actions if he did not feel inclined to do so. So she did nothing and waited for sleep to come, though it did take long.

And now, ever since they had awakened, she had been watching him and lusting for him. Even in church she could not contain her thoughts, and just walking arm in arm with him, which was about as much as they could do in public, made her quiver.

He finished saddling the horses and went over to her. He put his hands on her waist and she expected him to lift her up to her mare, as he always did, but instead, he pulled her close and stole a kiss.

“Christopher!” she said gently and smiling. “Someone could see us. We will scandalize our neighbors.”

“Let them be scandalized.” He leaned in and stole another. This one lasted longer, and their hats almost fell of their heads when bumping against one another. It made her more excited, but it soon stopped as he pulled away to lift her to her mare.

With her senses aroused, she watched as his strong legs lifted him to his horse. He started to ride and she lingered back to watch his firm buttocks move, following the horse’s movement. Oh, to have those buttocks thrusting in between her thighs…

He looked back.

“Mary-anne, are you not coming?”

She smiled and blushed. Then she caught up with him. The movement of the horse under her was not helping her cause.

They started to talk about the affairs of Delaford, and their neighbors, but she did not listen to every word for she sometimes drifted into fantasies about her beloved husband and his passionate yet tender ways in the bedchambers.

“Mrs. Cunningham wishes to pay a visit today,” his voice this time cut her thoughts.

“Ugh, that woman! What does she wish to complain about now?” He laughed, but Mary-anne was truly annoyed. “I tell you, dear husband. I do not know how you put up with her. You are a saint!”

“You learn how to deal with her with time.” He was still chuckling.

“I will have to learn soon. What if she decides to call on a day you are not here? I will have to speak to her alone! Oh, how dreadful.” Colonel Brandon began to laugh again. “I would not want people to think your wife is rude and impatient. I do not wish to sully your good name, but that woman is impossible.”

“My Mary-anne, you’ve brought nothing but joy to me. Everyone tells me how fortunate I am to have won the love of such a beautiful, polite, gracious young bride. You would never sully my name.” He smiled.

“They are wrong, for I am the fortunate one to have had such a fine gentleman fall for a foolish girl like me. I love you.” She reached out her hand and he took it, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“I love you more.”

Though both their hands were gloved, his touch made all the yearning for his body come rushing back at once.

They were already headed home. As they got to the stables, Colonel Brandon helped her off her mare, and felt the electricity and yearning coming from her. They again kissed, and this time, she did not care if someone could see them. She smiled at him, and he knew that smile, he had seen it many times before. He hurried in putting away the horses, while she sat on a bale of hay in an empty bay, waiting for him. When he finished, he went to her and leaned down to kiss her. The kiss was long and deep, and as his tongue massaged hers, her need grew even more.

“Shall we go upstairs?” He asked in a low tone that only made her more aroused.

“Why go upstairs when we are perfectly alone here?” She asked, a little weary of what he would think of her boldness. He smiled a wicked little smile which reassured her he liked her boldness very much.

“I just thought you might be more comfortable upstairs, my love.”

“I do not care about being comfortable,” she said as she fumbled with the buttons on his trousers, which stood right in front of her eyes. “I have been longing for you since you came home last night, but alas, you were too tired for me. I cannot wait any longer,” she said, throwing all caution aside.

A bulge grew in his trousers, as she hadn’t gotten to setting it completely free. He got down to his knees and started to lift her skirts.

“Why did you not wake me?” He found the waistband of her undergarment and slowly pulled them down. The fact that he was taking his sweet time just drove her more out of her mind.

“I did not know if… if it was a proper thing for a lady to do. To initiate such actions.” Her whisper was close to a moan.

He finished pulling off her undergarment and with his hands still under her skirts, on her thighs, he leaned closed to her and kissed her lips. Then he moved to her neck, and up to her ear where he whispered

“My Mary-anne, I am your husband, your companion for life. You can come to me with whatever, and I do mean whatever, you need.”

His hands went up her thighs to her privates, and he looked surprised to find her already very aroused, excitement oozing from her heat. She leaned over to his ear and whispered

“I’ve been ready all morning just thinking about you, my love.” She could not see it then, but his manhood almost ripped his buttons open. She sat him on the bale of hay and managed to open the fall front of his trousers, freeing his stiffness. She moved to straddle him and he helped lift her skirts. With one hand she guided him inside her while the other was on his shoulder. They both sighed in pleasure. They could not be loud, for they could scare the horses.

She ground on top of him as they kissed each other, on the lips, on the neck, wherever there lips could reach. Her hands were running through his hair while his were firmly gripping her buttocks, aiding the movements which pleased them so.

He quickly turned to place her on her back atop the bale of hay, so he could be on top. He began to thrust harder and soon she climaxed, biting his shoulder as she did so she would not scream. Not long after, he climaxed as well. They remained embraced exchanging kisses and tender words, but they remembered they could not take too long for someone could come by, so they recomposed themselves.

“Chris, my love, I think we should explore the estate like this more often,” she smiled.

He chuckled, picking hay off her hair.

“The servants shall like getting more days off work, I suppose.” He chuckled again, taking her arm in his, to walk her up to the house.

Chapter 10: Any Given Day

Chapter Text

Colonel Brandon was coming back from the village. It was part of his duties as master of the estate to go and listen to complaints and inquiries from the villagers, so he could make the necessary arrangements, and to resolve disputes between them.

He approached his home, but went slightly off course. It had been a tiring day, like many others he had had, but now he did not fear coming back to the manor. It would not be cold and empty. He would have someone to greet other than his staff. He would not dine alone. He would not sit in total silence and read until it was time for him to fall asleep in his cold, lonely bed. He had a home now.

The hothouse was not far from the manor. It was still light out, so George, the head gardener, was still there, looking after the plants and flowers. Colonel Brandon came in and worked his way around, seeing what flowers he would pick today. George offered him help, as he always did. On the first few occasions, Colonel Brandon had accepted help, as he had no idea what he was doing. He did not know the proper way to cut the stem of the flowers, nor did he have a clear vision of what flowers and colors would go well together and form a beautiful bouquet, worthy of his Mary-anne. After, however, a few days of repeating the task, back when he was still clumsily trying to court his now wife, he became rather decent at the job at hand. So, he preferred to make all the bouquets himself now, but that did not prevent George from offering help every time.

The Colonel fashioned a bouquet of yellow daisies, white lilies and light pink chrysanthemums. He bundled them together with a string and, returning George’s smile as he watched the Colonel work, he left for the house.

He walked in through the front door and while he stood in the foyer taking off his hat and coat, he heard a tune emerging from the music room. It was a familiar song. The one she had been singing when they first met. Only this time, she only played its melody.

He entered the music room and watched her play for a moment, remembering how she looked that first time. She soon spotted him at the doorway and smiled widely at him, all the while still playing. That had not happened when they first met. He smiled back and walked over to the grand instrument she played, leaning over her and kissing the top of her head. He walked away a few steps, and sat on the sofa that faced the Broadwood Grand.

She blew him a kiss, but never stopped playing. He placed the bouquet on the side table and closed his eyes as he listened to her play and all the weariness the day imposed on him washed away. He then opened his eyes, watching her curls shine in the fading sunlight that came in through the window behind her, her eyes now watching her hands and the ivories.

The song was over and she got up from the bench, walking over to him and picking up the bouquet which lay next to him.

“Are these for me?” She asked.

“Of course, my love.”

“They are beautiful, thank you.” She smiled as she lifted them to her nose.

“No more beautiful than you.” He pulled her down to his lap and kissed her cheek. They weren’t as careful as they should be anymore, to try and hide their displays of affection from the servants. At first, the staff talked a bit, as it was an uncommon thing to see in any household, but they now saw it as sweet, and only disturbed the love birds when extremely necessary, perhaps with a clearing of the throat to warn them.

“You know you do not need to give me flowers every day anymore, do you not? I am here, I am yours.” She smiled and threw her arm around his shoulders.

“Yes, but I will not stop.”

She set the flowers back down on the side table. She would get a vase for them when she got up.

“How was your day, dearest?”

“Tiresome,” he answered, sparing her of too many boring details, though she inquired of some specifics.

“And yours, my love?” He asked, his hand on her thigh while the other was around her waist.

“Very uneventful. This household was run in excellence before me, I am scarcely needed.”

“Trust me, you are very much needed.” He kissed her neck as she giggled.

“We haven’t played a duet in a while, sweetest,” she let out.

“Whatever do you mean? I thought the duet we sang this morning was quite beautiful” he said with a sly smile.

“Christopher!! Hush! Someone might hear you!” Her cheeks crimsoned. He laughed softly and spoke in a lower tone.

“If they did not hear you this morning, they certainly will not hear me now.”

She blushed further, if that was even possible, her cheeks burning furiously. She whispered

“From now on I will bite my tongue before I make any noises, you shall see.”

“Do not dare! I love the sounds you make.” He kissed her cheek and then her lips. She smiled as her blushing red cheeks faded back to her milky complexion. She stood from his lap and extended a hand.

“Come my love, let us play a duet.”

He raised an eyebrow as he took her hand. She looked down at him and quickly said “On the pianoforte!” She smiled as he stood. “For now, at least.”

Chapter 11: A Lovers' Quarrel

Chapter Text

He was running late for a business appointment in Dorchester and could not find the cufflinks he meant to wear. Mary-anne was out with Elinor, and when they were done with their charity work, she would have tea at the parsonage. Thus, he could not get her help in finding it.

He remembered the last time he had worn them. A dinner party they gave for some families in the neighborhood – and the Ferrars, of course – which afterwards had led to a night of passion, leaving the cufflinks forgotten on the bedside table, along with her earrings. He wondered if they were not put away in her jewelry box, along with her earrings, by mistake. He thought there would be no harm in looking.

Upon entering her dressing room, the jewelry box was immediately visible, sitting on her dressing table. He carefully combed through it, but did not find what he looked for.

He opened a drawer, and there he found another box, smaller, which looked like it could contain jewelry as well. It was wooden and delicate, with rustic carvings that resembled hearts. It was closed by a heart-shaped antique key.

He opened the box without much thought, in a hurry he was to be on the road. In the box laid no jewelry, however. There were many folded papers, but what held his attention was a small pocket book that lay atop it all. He could not believe his eyes, there had to be some mistake. He opened the book to be sure, and there it was, Willoughby’s name on the first page. It was his book of sonnets.

He closed the box and the drawer, decided to forget it all, and left her dressing room. But it gnawed on him, his heart growing heavy with pain and sorrow. Had all the moments they shared these past few months, since she accepted his proposal, all the moments he held dear in his heart… Had they all been lies? Had … had she not forgotten that scoundrel? Had she been thinking of him? It couldn’t be so… he had felt her love, her passion… she was happy. They were blissful. Could she have feigned something she did not feel? For his sake? Out of pity?

He paced their bedchamber, trying to find some rational explanation in his mind. He could not. He must then forget it and get to his appointment. He could not. His pain and sorrow quickly grew into anger. How could he have not seen it? How could he have let himself be fooled and believe she was happy with him?

At this point, he stood behind the small desk they kept in the corner of their room. In anger, he slammed his clenched fist on said desk, and it fell upon a bottle of ink, which cracked open, the glass cutting into his hand. Angrier still, he threw all that sat on the desk to the floor, flipping over the desk itself, another bottle of ink splattering on the hardwood floors.

 

********

 

He sat in a high back chair in front of the fire in their bedchamber. Willoughby’s pocket book of sonnets rested on the other, across from him. His hand, he had bandaged, and it held a glass of brandy. The desk had been put back in place, with everything that belonged atop it. The only traces of his anger that remained were the chip that had marked the desk as consequence of it being thrown to the ground, the broken ink bottle on the floor and the stain it left on the wood. He hadn’t had the courage to call the maid to clean it up, ashamed of his outburst. He was only glad Mary-anne had not been there to witness it. He was a better man than that, and he feared that whatever regard she had for him, if any, would be diminished if she saw it.

As his anger faded back into pain and confusion, he had sent a messenger with a note to the companions he was to do business with, excusing himself and begging for a new appointment on a different date. It was so unlike him to be irresponsible as such, but he found he could not bear to ride to Dorchester and think of business, when the reason for happiness in his life seemed to hang by a thread. It might not even have truly existed at all.

Mary-anne was home from tea with her sister and came up to wash before completing some more chores until dinnertime. She was surprised to see her husband sitting there, contemplative and silent as he was. Holding a drink so early in the day.

“Christopher! I thought you would still be in Dorchester.”

He said nothing, nor did he change his pained countenance.

“Christopher? Is something amiss?” She came closer. As she did, she saw the pocket book sitting on the chair opposite him, and began to understand what might be the matter.

“Christopher,” she started, but he interrupted her.

“Do you think of him often?” He asked with no anger or accusation, just sorrow.

She was hurt by that insinuation, and in her anger, only replied

“Do you make a habit of going through my things while I am out?”

“I do not. Do you miss him? Are you even remotely happy?”

Her frustration instigated her to retort with another question and not answer his question once again.

“Do you miss your Eliza? What of the portrait of her that lies in the attic? What is the meaning of that?”

The hurt in his eyes did not change, it could not grow any deeper. The lack of an answer for a second time was answer enough.

“You treat me unfairly. You would do well to remember that before I was master of Delaford, it had another Mrs. Brandon as its mistress. I did not commission that portrait. She was never my Eliza as you put it, nor did I believe her to be. I did however believe you to be mine. It seems I was wrong.” His eyes glistened with tears but he did not let them fall. “I was young and foolish when I loved Eliza, and that love had been forgotten even before I met you. The only thing that pained me most is how unfairly life had treated her. I only keep her portrait because she has a daughter who hardly knew her before her death. If she ever wishes for her mother’s portrait, she should have it.” He stood with his drink in hand and walked to the door, and facing it he continued. “Forgive me for rummaging through your personal belongings. I was looking for my cufflinks, but rest assured I will never invade your privacy again.” He opened the door and closed it behind him.

She did not mean for it to go as it did. Her frustration had not allowed her to answer him directly. She knew Eliza’s portrait had no meaning to him, she just brought it up in a failed attempt to make him see that not all things kept bear the meaning they seem to.

She saw the glass bottle on the floor and the ink stain. She remembered his bandaged hand and noticed the chip in the wood of their desk, and quickly imagined what had passed. She took the pocket book and left the room.

As she descended the stairs, she heard music coming from the pianoforte. It was far away and muffled. She walked to the music room only to find its door closed. She listened behind it, to the bleak and melancholic tune that came through it. Mozart’s Lacrimosa. She had never heard her husband play such tunes. It pained her heart to think he could be so hurt and the cause was her. She, who had vowed to make him laugh every day. He made her so joyous always, she never meant to cause him such sorrow. She touched her forehead to the door and began to cry. After a moment’s courage, she opened it.

He did not stop playing nor did he look up. She went to him and touched his bandaged hand while he played. That took away all his concentration, and he stopped.

“Christopher, please listen to me.” He sat watching the keys on the instrument. “My frustration prevented me from giving you an answer. I am frustrated with myself, because if you can even think such things, have such doubts that would make you so grievous, I am not showing you, telling you, making you feel all that I feel for you. I am failing. I love you with all my heart Christopher, all my heart. I am completely, utterly and entirely yours.” She sat on the keys in front of him. He couldn’t help but to slowly rest his head on her chest as she spoke. “Every inch of my heart, my body, my soul, is yours.” Her tears fell more abundantly and she lifted his chin, so his eyes could meet hers. “You can rummage through my things all you like. I have no secrets from you. I share my life with you. All of it.” She caressed his cheeks, his hair, his lips, despair filling her heart. “I will try, every day of my life, to make you believe what I say to be true. I love you, I love you so, and only you.”

His hand went to her cheeks and dried her tears. He pulled her down to kiss her lips.

“I am sorry my insecurities made you so, I never meant to cause you hurt. My only wish in life is to see you happy. As happy as anyone could ever be. To see your smile everyday… it lights up my life.”

“I am happy. You make me happy. You do. And I wish to make you happy.”

She took the pocket book from her dress pocket.

“I have not thought of that blaggard since… since… I cannot even remember. The only reason I had trouble parting with this is because, if you remember, it was from where you first read to me.”

He felt such a fool.

She flipped through the pages. “Sonnet 47 it was.” She showed it to him, and ripped out the page, folding it in half and placing it in her cleavage. She then stood and walked to the fireplace, tossing the pocket book into the crackling fire with no hesitation.

“You do not need to throw your belongings into the fire on my account,” he cried out.

“I would throw myself into the fire if it were to make you less wretched. It breaks my heart to see you so.”

“Throwing yourself into the fire would only make me wretched beyond repair” he said as he walked to her and took her in his arms. “Forgive me my love, for ever doubting you. For ever doubting what we have.” He kissed her cheeks, her nose, her lips.

“Forgive me for not giving you an answer right away, for prolonging your angst and wretchedness. For bringing up Eliza. That was low of me. I know you love me. I feel it. Even though I am sometimes unworthy of such a pure and incredible love as that which you give.”

“I am the one who is unworthy of you.”

She placed a finger on his lips as to quiet him, and shook her head. They kissed passionately, and all was forgiven.

Chapter 12: In the Throes of Passion

Chapter Text

 

There was still awkwardness in the air and Colonel Brandon was still relatively grave after their quarrel. Shortly after the resolution of the fact in the music room, Elinor and Edward arrived for supper, for Mary-anne had invited them to join her when she was out with Elinor, thinking she would sup alone otherwise. This had left them with little time to themselves, and therefore, things had not truly fallen back into normality.

Though they both still had heavy hearts, they managed to treat their guests with the same warmth as always, as not to make them suspicious of anything that had happened. After supper, they conversed in the drawing room, where they had drinks, and not long after, the Brandons were bidding the Ferrars farewell at their sweep.

When they walked back inside, Colonel Brandon, in silence, offered his hand to his wife, to escort her upstairs. She gladly took it, relieved at the subtle sign of normality. All she wished to do was go to bed and hope that tomorrow would bring a fully restored household and a smiling Christopher once more. She noticed the bandages on his hand, which hadn’t been changed since he himself tended to the fresh wound that afternoon, were marked with blood.

He entered their bedchamber first, leaving her behind to close the door. As she did, slowly, she gathered the courage to break the silence.

“I should take a look at your hand, love. Put some fresh bandages on it before we sleep.”

The door was still slightly open and she was facing it when his arm came above her head and his hand leaned heavily on the door, shutting it at once. With his other hand he turned her swiftly to face him, as he uttered

“Sleep be damned.”

He pressed her against the door and kissed her lips. The kiss was not as gentle as it usually was. There was an urgency, a slight despair in his passion that she had never felt before, not even on their wedding night. It was different, but not unpleasant at all.

He lifted one of her legs to his hips and pushed her up along the door so her lips were at height with his. She voluntarily took her other leg to his hips and locked them behind his back, her arms supporting her on his shoulders. Her fingers sank and disappeared into his hair as his kisses grew hungrier and deeper, his hands on her buttocks holding her up in place with the help of the door on which he pressed her.

Their lips parted and he moved down to her neck. In between kisses, he breathed heavily

“Oh how I’ve missed you, my Mary-anne.”

“Missed me?” She asked in a low voice, her hands running up and down his back, wishing she could tear into the cloth of his clothes and rip them off of him. “I have been here all day, close by.”

“I thought you were lost to me. I sat all day in despair, thinking you were not mine anymore, that you never had been.” He still kissed her neck and nibbled on her earlobe, pressing himself against her body. “My heart grew heavy with sorrow. I missed you already.” He kissed her lips, the despair seething in his kiss. “I need you.”

“Then take me,” she moaned, as she felt him grow in between her thighs. “I’m yours. Take what is yours.”

He put her down and turned her to face the chest of drawers that sat beside the door. On the wall atop it, a looking glass. He struggled behind her to open the buttons to her dress as quickly as he could and silently wished that today of all days she had worn a dress which did not button up. She reached back and caressed his thigh and buttocks as he fumbled at her dress. He was almost done unbuttoning her, but her constant rubbing of her behind on his imprisoned manhood got the best of him. He could not take it any longer. He opened his fall front just enough to free himself, and lifted her skirts and petticoat, lowering her undergarment just enough so he could slide into her. She gripped the edges of the chest of drawers as he did so, biting her lips and rolling back her eyes. He gripped her hips as he thrust into her, and he could see her facial expressions through the mirror, how much she enjoyed it, which only made him more aroused, and led him to thrust faster. He leaned into her and his lips touched her bare shoulder. She bucked back into him and he bore his teeth in desire, grazing the flesh on the shoulder he had just kissed. As she did it again, he bit her, unable to contain himself. She moaned in surprise, though she did not mind the bite. He felt remorse as soon as he did it, but he could see through the mirror that she had enjoyed it. One of his hands slid up her body, up to her breasts, and there it remained, cupping her as their movements grew more intense. He watched her face in the looking glass and heard her screams as her pleasure came, and his followed shortly after.

Once he came down from his high, he gently kissed the bite mark he had left and released her, stumbling back onto the bed, still half aroused. He sat up and watched as she turned to face him, and leaning on the chest of drawers that had supported them during the roughness of passion, she let her dress fall to the ground. She then pulled her undergarment off from under her petticoat.

“I hope, Mr. Brandon, you do not think that we are done,” she said, as she tossed the undergarment at him, smiling. She then moved to unpin her hair, the smile still lighting her face as she stared at him.

He took the undergarment that covered half his face and tossed it on the bed. He stood up, slowly walking towards her. He came within inches from her and placed his hands on the chest of drawers, on either side of her, imprisoning her in between his body and the furniture. His body did not touch hers, nor did his arms. His lips were mere inches away from hers, slightly parted. She could feel his breath on her lips, but he did not move to kiss her, teasing her.

“Are we not?” he let out with a smirk. She smiled as she reached for his manhood and stroked it. She wanted to win this little battle but he held his ground, and she was the one who finally met him halfway and kissed his lips. He pulled off her petticoat and untied her stay in swift movements, letting it all fall to the floor. He lifted her to sit on the piece of furniture and pulled off her chemise over her head, throwing it back over his shoulder. Their kisses continued, on the lips, on the neck, on the shoulders, while she untied his cravat and tossed it aside, her fingers swiftly moving to the buttons on his waistcoat, doing all she could to rapidly undo them without tearing them off, which was her wish. As she did this, his fingers gently grazed her legs, slowly pushing down her stockings. This caused her hairs to stand on end, and her despair to undress him to grow. She pushed the waistcoat off and it fell to the floor, her hands now free to work on his shirt. That became a difficult task as his hands found their way to her core and his fingers gently grazed it before two of them invaded her while another rubbed her bud of nerves. A most welcome invasion. His tongue also parted its way through her lips, leaving her breathless from time to time, when they weren’t busy at her neck or earlobes. She undid the top buttons of his shirt and stopped, not able to concentrate on the task any longer. Her hands slid to his back and under his shirt, where her nails scratched him as her vocalizations of pleasure grew louder. He removed his hands from her to pull off his shirt, and she gripped his buttocks in despair.

“No, Chris, please, don’t stop,” she gasped.

He smiled. Once his shirt was on the floor, his fingers returned to the task they were performing with mastery and she rolled her eyes back and moaned in his ear, as she tried to nibble on it. Her fingers, quickly losing their dexterity, lowered to finish opening his trousers and these fell to the floor. He stepped out of them.

He continued to please her with one hand as the other moved to her curls, grabbing hold of them and firmly pulling her head back, leaving her throat exposed to be kissed and licked.

She could not take it any longer. She pulled herself closer to him, locking her legs behind his buttocks and kissing his lips, rubbing her sex against his manhood, wishing to feel him inside her once more. He pulled her from the chest of drawers, firmly holding her buttocks as she held on to his shoulders, and he took her to the bed, throwing her on it. She laughed and waited for him to fall atop her but instead, he stood before her, admiring her bare body, the sweat making it glisten in the candlelight.

She smiled and placed a foot on his bare chest.

“Come, Chris. I need you,” she whispered as her hand moved to the apex of her sex and gently started rubbing. His hand went to her inner thigh, and with his nails gently grazing her leg, they trailed up to her ankle. She arched her back and moaned as he did this. He placed her toe in his mouth and sucked it, and she quivered, experiencing pleasure through a body part she never thought could provide such experiences. His lips moved to her ankle and kissed it as he knelt on the edge of the bed. He pulled her legs swiftly so her hips would join his. She gasped in surprise, and shortly after, he pulled her up against him, stood up carrying her, and turned to press her back against the bed post beside him, slipping into her, all in a heartbeat.

“Oh Chris!” was all she could manage. She had long stopped believing him to be feeble and incapable of strong emotion due to his age. Still, the way in which he effortlessly handled her as if she weighed nothing surprised and aroused her, and the urgency in his movements, in his passion, excited her further. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped slightly due to her astonishment. He kissed her chin and bit her lower lip as he thrust.

“You keep surprising me, love,” she panted.

She could see through the looking glass behind him how every muscle in his body moved as he pushed himself inside her, and it aroused her more. Her head lolled back and rested on the bed post as her arms were wrapped around his shoulders. Her legs were weak with excitement and she could not lock them behind him, so he held them as he penetrated her.

“Oh, I love you so,” she said as her eyes rolled back.

“Say it again,” he grunted, out of breath.

She forced her eyes back into focus and looked deep into his, her hands cupping his face.

“I love you, Chris,” she panted. Her hands slid into his hair.

He smiled and she saw his eyes were peaceful, reassured.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” she smiled. She kissed his lips, gently nipping them when she parted.

Her pleasure rippled through her body and as she tightened around him, he swell and his pleasure came as well.

Their limp, sweaty bodies fell on the bed and he rested his head on her breasts as she caressed his hair. One of her hands went down to his shoulder and gently pressed on it. He would not admit it, at least not immediately, but after all these efforts, his shoulder surely would bother him. As she pressed on it, he hummed his gratitude.

Their bodies cooled down and it became rather chilly, so she pulled the throw on the foot of the bed to cover them.

“Chris?” She asked.

“Hmmm.”

“Lover?”

“Yes, my sweet?”

“Do you still love me?”

He smiled into her breasts. He still did not express his love all the times he wished to, to the full extent he felt it, for fear of overwhelming her. It felt nice to hear her asking for reassurance. It meant she liked to hear him say it.

“Of course I do. You know I do. You said so yourself.”

“Yes. Nonetheless, it is always marvelous to hear. Your tender voice saying it to me. It makes my body quiver. And you haven’t said it once since our… misunderstanding. You were so wretched and disappointed… I wanted to be sure you hadn’t changed your regard for me.”

He kissed one of her breasts. His lips wandered up to her neck. Her cheek. He looked her in the eyes and said “I love you.” He kissed her lips. “Madly.” He kissed her again. “Ardently.” Another kiss. “Fervently.” His lips went to her ear and he whispered “You needn’t ever worry. I will love you for always.” He felt the goose prickles run down her body. Her hands caressed his back, her nails occasionally grazing it. “Until I draw my last breath. And beyond that.” He kissed her cheek, her lips, her other cheek and went to her other ear. “Since you enjoy hearing it so much, you shall hear it as often as I feel the need to express it. Which is every single minute of every single day.”

Her body once again quivered, and he kissed her lips.

“It baffles me,” she said with a smile. “I have read more poetry than most, and I have always considered myself a romantic.” She caressed his face and her hand went to his messy hair, trying to straighten it. “And I believe I express myself rather well in all aspects, wouldn’t you say?”

“You do everything rather well. You are perfect.”

She smiled wider blush spreading on her cheeks.

“And yet, I cannot find the words that truly encompass my feelings. How deeply I love you. Words as sweet as yours.”

Chapter 13: Eliza's Visit

Chapter Text

Mary-anne insisted she meet Eliza. Of course she did. Eliza was family to her husband and therefore, family to her. Colonel Brandon was not too sure about them meeting. He wished it, for they were both big parts of his life, but he feared it because of … what they both had in common. He feared his beloved Mary-anne would not know how to deal with seeing the child that was born from the… indiscretion of a man she once loved.

But Mary-anne insisted. Eliza was important to him, so she wished her to visit, wished to open their home for her to visit whenever she liked. And so Colonel Brandon wrote to her and informed her of his wife’s invitation. After the exchange of a few letters, a date was agreed upon. And Eliza was to arrive any minute now.

Mary-anne was anxious, but not fearful. She wanted to make a good impression, wished for Eliza to like her, but wondered if their shared heartbreak would make Eliza resistant to her attempts. She also wondered what it would be like to see her daughter. Willoughby’s daughter. Mary-anne loved her husband with all her heart, but she had never again seen Willoughby after that horrible ball in London. She had never had a distinctive moment of closure, a moment where she realized she had let him go. She had never seen his child. And she often wondered how she would react to seeing either of them. Would some old feeling rise up and show its ugly face?

The sound of hooves on the sweep made the Brandons exit their parlor and go to the door. Eliza stepped out of the carriage and soon pulled a little girl, a one-year-old, into her arms. Though she was not of her father’s sex, one who had known him as Mary-anne had could clearly see his traits on her face. The sight of her shocked Mary-anne for a moment. Eliza’s good looks also did not help her to keep her composure. She remembered that the one who had fooled her into giving him her heart with no real intention of holding it and keeping it safe was seducing the woman who stood in front of her not long before they met in the rain and he carried her with her twisted ankle. The sight of someone who resembled him so made her heart sink to her stomach, heavy with memories of all that had happened, of all that she had felt and how deeply she had felt it. Of all she had thought could have been.

Christopher’s hand cupped hers, which rested in the nook of his arm, pressed against his body. That snapped her out of her daze, and she looked up at him. His hazel eyes seemed to smile at her. All the love she felt for him and all the memories they had made – were making – washed over her and drowned the heavy thoughts she had had moments before. She smiled back at him. Then a new thought entered her mind. If it hadn’t been for Willoughby and all he had done, perhaps she would have never truly seen the wonderful man that was in front of her the whole time back then, and who stood with her now. She might have let him go, and he would be lost to her forever.

They walked over to Eliza to greet her. After the common courtesies, they went inside to have lunch. Everything ran smoothly, but one could not deny that had the Colonel not been there to carry the conversation, the two young ladies would probably be caught in various awkward silences.

After their meal, they retired to the drawing room and continued the conversation for a while, until Colonel Brandon had to go tend to his business. He left them both to their sewing, little Joana – clearly named to honor her father, much to the Colonel’s disapproval – playing on the rug by her mother.

As soon as he left, silence fell. Mary-anne could not understand why she could not think of anything to say. She was a gracious hostess whenever they had other guests over, never lacking in conversation. Perhaps it was different with Eliza because the obvious subject could not be approached. She attempted to talk about literature, but Eliza did not quite enjoy the same authors as Mary-anne did, and hadn’t had much time to read at all lately. She attempted to discuss music, but Eliza never really took her lessons seriously and could not play any instrument properly. Silence fell again. Finally, Eliza broke it.

“Cousin Brandon tells me you… you knew Joana’s father?” She asked shyly.

Mary-anne was a bit shocked she would want to discuss him, but she supposed it was better than silence.

“I did.”

“Forgive me if I have offended you, Mrs. Brandon. We do not need to talk about it.”

“No, I don’t really mind if you wish to. And please, call me Mary-anne.” She smiled.

Eliza sighed. “I… I feel really silly. I shouldn’t even give him thought after what he did… but I sometimes catch myself hoping he will someday want to meet his daughter.” She looked at Joana who sat quietly with her blocks.

“I can certainly understand how you feel.”

“How… how did you come to know him?”

“He was visiting his aunt, who lives near my mother in Barton. I sprained my ankle during a walk and he happened to pass by and help me. That was when I foolishly fell for his charms.”

“I suppose one does need to be foolish…”

“Oh no dear! I did not mean to imply you are foolish. I say I was foolish because…” Mary-anne blushed. “Because I was already acquainted with you cousin. I regret not having noticed the wonderful man he was before. I could have been happy with him for longer now. But you are not to blame for falling for Willoughby’s charms. He certainly knew how to lure one in.”

“You never suspected anything?”

“Not at all. He made me believe he was truly attached to me on every encounter we had, though he never said it plainly. Even when he left with no explanation, even after I learned what he had done to you, I was so blinded that I looked for excuses for him. It took some time, and some patience and care from you cousin, for me to come to my senses.”

They were back to the awkward silence. This time, Mary-anne spoke first.

“And you? How did you come to meet him?” She was not sure she really wished to learn about this.

“I… I was in Bath with a friend. I think he fancied her more than he did me, but she was wiser than me and did not take any interest in him. I did, at first sight. He was so handsome and elegant and well spoken…”

“Indeed he was.”

“He seemed to shift his interest when my friend would not fall for his charms and when… This might sound queer… but I think that he took interest in me when I mentioned my cousin was Colonel Brandon.”

A sudden wave of understanding hit Mary-anne. Willoughby seemed to dislike Colonel Brandon from the start and she never quite understood why, though she went along with him for her own foolish reasons. She thought it might be jealousy, due to Mrs. Jennings’ comments of the Colonel and Mary-anne, but it seemed now that he knew him from before. Maybe from earlier visits to his aunt. Was it Christopher’s wealth that attracted him? He was a longtime bachelor before marrying Mary-anne, perhaps Willoughby thought Delaford would go to his ward, and therefore himself, if he succeeded in his conquest. But then he would not have left her as he did. Perhaps Eliza was just some sort of vengeance, consequence of a feeling born long before. Maybe he despised Christopher because he was the man Willoughby could never be. So he wanted to soil something of his. If he noticed Christopher’s attachment to her, perhaps she too became part of this vengeance. These realizations made Mary-anne feel disgust for Willoughby.

“I don’t think that is as queer as you would imagine, Miss Williams.”

“Please, Eliza.”

She recounted the time she spent with their common acquaintance and Mary-anne was happy to verify that she felt nothing but sadness for Eliza and what she had been through, and regret for having herself fallen for this man’s ill intended advances when she could have been engaged elsewhere. Somewhere better.

Eliza expressed to her the shame she felt for having laid out of wedlock with Willoughby. She had been weak and believed it would make his regard for her grow somehow. Mary-anne assured her it was not her fault, that had she herself had more time with him, she might have fallen victim of him as well… had his game not been interrupted by the unforeseen fact that he actually grew attached to her as well. This last part Mary-anne did not mention. She thought it might be cruel on the girl’s heart, that Mary-anne somehow succeeded where Eliza wanted to but could not.

Eliza was also ashamed of the embarrassment she caused her cousin. Such a distinguished gentleman having to deal with such events. Mary-anne assured her he, being the great man that he was, loved her and her daughter despite all that.

“Did you love him, Mary-anne? Willoughby?” Eliza asked.

“Yes, I did.”

Colonel Brandon came in and heard this, but pretended he hadn’t. He made himself seen only moments later.

“So, you haven’t done much sewing I see. I take that means you had a pleasant conversation.” He smiled, holding his hands behind his back. Mary-anne expected the kiss he always had for her when he came home, but remembered they had company and that must be why he did not greet her in that way.

“Oh yes. You have married a lovely lady, cousin.”

“And you have a lovely cousin, husband.”

They both smiled.

“Yes. I am a lucky man indeed. I will leave you ladies to it then.” He began to walk towards his study.

“Sit with us,” Mary-anne said. “It is almost time for supper.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude in your conversation, my love. And I have some letters to answer before we lose daylight.” He retired to his study and closed the door. Mary-anne watched him as he did so.

“I thought I did,” Mary-anne started. Eliza was lost. “You asked if I loved Willoughby. I thought I did. Whatever I felt for him, and it was indeed strong, pales in comparison to what I feel now, for you cousin.”

“I wish to be happy, but I cannot forget him. I imagine it will be quite hard to do, having his child with me all day every day.” Mary-anne said nothing. She imagined it would indeed be hard. She did not know if she would have forgotten him had it not been for Christopher’s affections to make her realize Willoughby had nothing special to offer. Even that, finding a gentleman who takes interest in her to mend her heart, would be hard for Eliza now. “One would think that his disregard for mine and my daughter’s well being would be enough to make me loathe him. But it is not. Cousin Brandon feels very strongly about him and disliked it very much when I attempted to stop him from dueling Willoughby. He did not like that I tried to find excuses for him, and now Willoughby is a subject I cannot approach with him, ever. But sometimes one needs to talk about certain things…”

“Yes, I imagine my husband dislikes the subject very much.” She thought of the quarrel they had the other day, and of the few times she had mentioned him before, how his countenance grew stern. She could not blame him, for he did have more than enough reason to dislike Willoughby. “But at least he did not harm Willoughby in the duel. I suppose he did bear your request in mind.” Mary-anne remembered the conversation which they had not long after her fever, when she questioned him of the duel.

“Oh no, I don’t think so. He was very determined when he left, did not care one bit about my request, it seemed. He said Willoughby deserved whatever came for him, because of what he had done to me, and that one day I would learn to understand it. Upon returning and seeing me in my agitated state, he did relieve my heart of its burden by saying Willoughby lived. But he stated he only had that privilege because he was in an understanding with some lady, and he did not wish to grieve her so. That perhaps he had learned his lesson with the fright of dueling and now, towards her, he might be a better man. But I was to forget him, for my own good. He must have spoken of the now Mrs. Willoughby.”

Mary-anne pondered that for a moment. At the time they dueled, Willoughby was not engaged to Miss Grey, he could not have meant her. Did he know beforehand for some reason? But when Elinor and she arrived in London, he came to see them and… Herself!! He thought Willoughby had and understanding with herself, of course, as most people did. He spared the scoundrel's life thinking of her heart. Already so loving, even with the prospect of never having her. Mary-anne’s chest swelled with regret for the fact and love and a mixture of the most wonderful feelings towards her husband.

“Oh. Well... if you ever need to talk, I am here for you.” Mary-anne smiled.

“Do you think he will ever want to at least meet his daughter?” Eliza asked, hope in her eyes.

“I… think he might wish to… but I don’t think he would ever seek you.” Mary-anne felt horrible to break her heart, but she had to be honest.

Eliza looked at Joana. “It is for her I have to live for now.”

“Yes. Focus on that and all will be well.”

With the awkwardness out of the way, they could talk about other things, common interests. Even if they did not enjoy the same artists or authors, the love for the arts was the same. They were fast friends and when Colonel Brandon emerged from his study for supper, he was no longer solely responsible for carrying the conversation.

After supper, he excused himself, claiming he had pains on his back and wished to get to bed early. Mary-anne played with Joana and spoke to Eliza for a while, but soon excused herself to join her husband.

 

Chapter 14: A Box of Surprises  
Chapter Text

Mary-anne walked into their bedchamber and shut the door. The room was empty. She looked around and saw the door to his dressing room slightly open. She peeked in and saw him lying in the bathtub with his eyes closed. She knocked but did not wait for him to answer before coming in.

“Is everything all right, my dear?”

“Yes. Quite.” He answered, not opening his eyes.

She sat on a chair against the wall as she sighed.

“I know you, dear husband, and you seem upset about something.” She waited for him to respond, but he did not. His eyes were still closed. “I’ll wager it is because you heard what Eliza and I were talking about when you came in.”

He wished to deny it but he couldn’t. He opened his eyes and looked at her apologetically but said nothing. He did not want to feel this way, but he was helpless against it. He knew she loved him, she said so quite often and demonstrated it even more, but to hear them talking about Willoughby, hear her saying she had loved him, brought back images of Mary-anne with him, all the pain he felt. She had loved Willoughby at first sight. Her heart just knew. Him, her heart had to be convinced, had to learn to love. Slowly. Foolish thoughts, but he could not avoid them. He closed his eyes again.

“Forgive me, Mary-anne. I cannot help it. Just hearing his name…”

She got up from the chair and went to him, kneeling behind him. She rested her hands on his bare chest and her chin on his shoulder.

“Christopher, you have no reason to be upset. I love you. You know that, right? With all my heart. All of it.” She kissed his neck.

“I do. But it is always nice to hear.” He managed a smile. “But I saw you with him, how you were, and hearing you say… what you said today just made it all come back. I just need some time to… forget again.”

“I thought I loved him. Had you come in at the right time you would have heard me say that. Whatever I felt for him… it was strong, I will not deny it, but it cannot and will not ever compare to what I feel for you, my dearest, my love.” Her hands ran across his chest while she whispered in his ear. “This. This is love. True love.” She nibbled on his ear and he smiled, trying to fight the arousal that this caused him. Suddenly, her hands were no longer on him. Had she become upset? Why? She had professed her love and he had said nothing. He was about to open his eyes and look for her, say he loved her too, when her voice started from behind him, though not as near as it was before.

“We only talked about it because Eliza felt the need to. I think despite it all she still has some sort of feeling for him. I… I just wanted to help.” And her hands were back on his chest, her chin on his shoulder.

“I am glad you got along. And that you wish to help her. She might really need someone to talk to.”

Mary-anne’s hands started moving across his chest again and she said, in between kisses on his neck and nibbling on his ear:

“Are you still upset with me, Christopher?”

“I was never upset with you, my Mary-anne.”

Her hand slid down his chest into the water. She ran it over his stomach, dangerously close to his manhood, while she still kissed his neck. He was again fighting the arousal, but her hand finally reached lower and she began to stroke him. Fighting it now was useless. He became stiff in the warm water that surrounded him.

“I never can resist seeing you bare, my dear Chris,” she whispered in his ear. She got up from behind him and stepped over the edge of the tub to get in the water with him. He opened his eyes and saw she had already disrobed. He reveled in her firm body as she sunk herself into the water, onto his lap. His hands trailed up her curves, stopping on her waist as she sat upon him. He kissed her lips as he pulled her closer to him.

“I love you, my sweet Mary-anne.”

She grinded on top of him, rubbing his length with her womanhood as she smiled and kissed him.

“I love you more, Chris.”

“That is simply impossible” he said, brushing her hair off her face.

Her hands slid down his sides. Then, one hand guided him into her while the other gripped the edge of the tub. She started to move gently, her hands now on his neck, her fingertips playing with his hair. She looked deep into his eyes and then kissed him. His hands were still on her waist. As her movement on him intensified, she arched her back, throwing back her head. He took this opportunity to kiss her cleavage. His lips then wandered to a breast, his tongue trailing the way, tracing its curves. She bit her lip in an attempt to hold her screams but found that keeping her lips busy as well was a better option. She pulled up his face so she could kiss him.

On and on they went, water splashing about and wetting the floor.

 

*****

 

Mary-anne lay on her side, her back to her husband’s chest. He smelled her hair and kissed her neck as his hand ran up and down her thigh, over her nightgown. His hand slid up, and met hers. Their fingers intertwined and she brought up his hand to her lips, pressing them softly against his warm skin.

She suddenly moved to sit up, but he held her back.

“Where are you going, my Mary-anne?” He whispered in her ear as he held her tight, close to him. She smiled and turned her head to kiss him.

“I have something to show you, my love.”

He let her go and she hurried into her dressing room. He sat up on the bed to wait for her, curiosity taking hold of him. In a few moments she came back holding a wooden box. It was the box in which he had found Willoughby’s pocket book. She placed it on his lap with a smile. He looked at the box and then at her, puzzled and uncertain.

“You may open it.”

He did. He saw inside various pieces of paper, as he had before. On top of them, the sonnet she had ripped from the pocket book before she threw it into the fire. He poked around in the box and saw some dry flowers and chocolate wrappers. He did not quite understand. With further encouragement from her, he unfolded some of the papers that lay in the box. One was the sheet music of the song he sent her along with the pianoforte to Barton Cottage. She still played it, but by now she knew it by heart. He thought the sheet music had been left at her mother’s house or thrown away. He unfolded another piece of paper. It was a letter he had sent her when they were betrothed. Another, and it was the translation of a French poem he had written down for her at her request, long before he had proposed to her. The first duet they ever played together. A note he had left on his pillow one morning, when he had to leave before she had awoken. Portraits of him she had asked Elinor to sketch for her. A few she had attempted to draw herself. Letters, poems, music, notes. Everything they had shared. Even letters that were not addressed to her, but to her mother, but always asking of her health and giving warning that he was to go visit, for since they had no understanding at the time, propriety forbade him from exchanging letters with her. He realized the flowers were from bouquets he had given her, probably at least one from each and every bouquet he had ever made her, and the wrappers from chocolates he had gifted.

He looked at her, touched, and kissed her forehead.

“My sweet Mary-anne, this is… I never thought you would save all of this.”

“Well, I did.” She smiled.

“But you didn’t even… you only professed your love after we were married. I thought you… On the day I asked you to be my wife, you said you weren’t sure of your feelings. Yet there are things here from before…”

“While it was true that I was a bit confused and unsure, I could never bring myself to throw any of it out. It started with this sonnet.” She picked up sonnet 47. “I wanted to. I thought I should throw the pocket book out, but couldn’t. At first I thought it was because it had belonged to Willoughby, but the image that kept coming back to me was of you holding it, reading to me for the first time, while I was sick. I did not make much of that, but it happened again when the flowers you had brought to me on your first visit to the Cottage after my fever had long wilted and Mama wished to dispose of them. I wouldn’t let her. So I kept one at least.” She picked up a withered rose bud. “And on it went.”

He kissed her lips and smiled.

“I did not know what it meant at the time. But don’t you see? I had already come to love you. I have loved you for a long time, though I didn’t realize it.” She looked down at her hands in her lap, ashamed. When she looked up again, he had tears in his eyes.

“Have I upset you, love?” She cupped her hands on his cheeks and brushed away the tears. “Forgive me.”

“Oh no, quite the contrary, light of my life. These are tears of joy.” He smiled and took her hands, placing a kiss on each one.

“I showed you this so you never again doubt my love for you. Though I did not know it or profess it, I have loved you since you rescued me from the rain at Cleveland. My heart is yours. Please forgive my foolishness in taking too long to realize it.” She kissed him. “Promise me you will never doubt that I love you, ever again,” she whispered as she came closer to rest her head on his shoulder.

“I promise” he whispered, as he smiled and kissed her forehead.

Chapter 15: Improprieties  
Chapter Text

As the preacher’s wife, Elinor visited the sick and elderly in the village to see to their needs. Wishing to be a good and helpful mistress, something Delaford had not had in many years, Mary-anne usually accompanied her, and took baked goods from the manor’s kitchen to offer to all.

As they came to the end of yet another afternoon of walking through the village and seeing to their duties, and were heading back to the Ferrars’ home for tea, Mary-anne thought it would be merry for Elinor to visit Eliza, especially since they had finished their duties quite earlier.

Ever since Eliza’s stay at Delaford, she had learned that her cousin and his new wife were not ashamed of her as she had thought. Seeing as she had always very much liked Delaford village and the neighborhood, she had inquired if it would be possible for her to live there, even if in a cottage a little bit further off, as to not attract comments and gossip that might embarrass and displease the Brandons.

Colonel Brandon had very much liked the idea of having her close by, to take better care of her and her daughter, and Mary-anne, having liked her very much and always happy to make her husband happy, consented to the idea as well. All the arrangements were made and soon enough, Eliza was yet another inhabitant of Delaford.

Elinor agreed to pay Eliza a visit as long as it was a quick one, for Mrs. Jennings awaited them at the parsonage for tea. Mrs. Jennings had come to Delaford to stay at least a month. A fortnight with Elinor, and the next with Mary-anne. A visit, she stated, which was long overdue, owed since they had wed. Mary-anne dreaded the thought of having Mrs. Jennings as company every single day for a fortnight, and was only glad she chose to impose on Elinor first. So any idea that would keep them away from her a bit longer, even if for minutes, was very welcome.

Eliza was very pleased when she answered the door, for the only visitors she ever received were the Colonel and Mary-anne, and the servant who brought her supplies. She was instantly very friendly and open towards Elinor, as was her nature. They had already met during her visit at the manor, but it was more formally, during a supper one day. Eliza was also very friendly because she said any family of Mary-anne’s was definitely a friend of hers.

While Elinor became further acquainted with Eliza, she played with little Joana. Mary-anne noticed something different about Elinor’s demeanor. The way she looked at Joana, how she acted towards her… And suddenly, a realization hit Mary-anne and she smiled to herself.

Walking back to the Ferrars’ home, Mary-anne kept looking up at Elinor every few steps and smiling furtively, wishing to ask her what she knew in her heart, but at the same time, not wishing to invade her privacy.

“Do you not think Eliza is a sweet girl?” Mary-anne asked.

“Yes, she is very sweet indeed. I shall visit her more often, the poor thing. She must be somewhat lonely.”

“And little Joana? Very much like her mother in disposition. Thank goodness.”

“Yes, a sweet child.” Elinor smiled.

Mary-anne looked at her and smiled herself, and waited for further comment. None came. She went back to staring at her sister every few steps and smiling.

“Mary-anne, dear, do stop staring at me like that. You might miss a step and fall.”

Mary-anne looked forward but still smiled. Moments later, she was back looking at her sister.

“Elinor…?”

“Yes?”

“Well?”

“What, dear?”

“You aren’t really going to torture me like this, are you? Your dear sister! Please, don’t be so cruel!”

Elinor smiled. She needn’t say anything more.

“Oh, Elinor!” Mary-anne threw herself at her sister, hugging her tightly. “I am so happy for you! For Edward!”

“Shush, dear! You mustn’t say anything. Edward doesn’t know yet. I am to tell him tonight.”

“Yes, yes, of course! Who am I to tell anyway?”

“Your husband. And he could let it slip to mine.”

“Right. No, I’ll make sure that does not happen.” She grinned widely and hugged her again. “I’m so happy for you, my dear sister!”

As they arrived for tea, Mary-anne controlled herself as to not let Mrs. Jennings in on anything. They were well into tea and everything ran smoothly, Mrs. Jennings monopolizing the conversation as per usual, gossiping about acquaintances in Barton and London, when, after a moment’s silence, she let out

“Well Mrs. Ferrars, when will you stop hiding from me that you are with child?”

Mary-anne tried not to look alarmed while Elinor choked on her tea.

“I… Forgive me Mrs. Jennings, but what do…”

“Hush hush now dear, no use in denying it. I have an eye for these things. I knew the moment I arrived.” She hummed happily and sipped her tea.

“Please, Mrs. Jennings, I haven’t yet told my husband. Please, I ask you, don’t mention anything until I do, as to not ruin the surprise.” Elinor was desperately begging with her eyes.

“Not to worry dear. Though I do not understand how he does not know yet. I do suppose men are a bit thick for such things.”

All of them went back to sipping their tea, Elinor seemingly calmer, and Mary-anne tried to hide her outrage at Mrs. Jennings’ lack of tact. After another moment’s silence, Mrs. Jennings began smiling again.

“And you, Mrs. Brandon?” She inquired with her insinuating smile.

It was Mary-anne’s turn to choke on her tea.

“I assure you Mrs. Jennings that I am NOT with child.”

“Oh yes, that I know dear.” Mary-anne sighed and sipped her tea. “Why not is my question,” continued Mrs. Jennings.

Mary-anne stared at her unblinkingly for a moment, flushing pink, not quite knowing how to respond without being completely rude.

“You did not marry too long after your sister. It should be coming along now, should it not?”

Mary-anne’s cheeks grew from pink to red.

“I don’t think…” she started, trying to calm herself.

“I do hope you haven’t been refusing our dear Colonel.”

Elinor gave an alarmed look at Mrs. Jennings, astonished with her impropriety. She wished to help Mary-anne, but did not know what to say. Mary-anne was outraged at this intrusion.

“I do believe that is none of your business, Mrs. Jennings!”

Mrs. Jennings was not offended at the slightest.

“Now now, if you need someone to talk to, there’s your sister. She has already succeeded in this matter. I could also offer you my daughter Charlotte. She’s not shy at all and would gladly talk your ear off, tell you whatever you need to know. I would gladly talk to you myself but I’m afraid at my age, I wouldn’t be much help.” Mrs. Jennings chuckled. “It is really nothing to fear, my dear. And the Colonel isn’t growing any younger. He’ll need an heir for his estate. You do not wish to disappoint him by not providing one for him now, would you?”

Mary-anne’s outrage grew as Mrs. Jennings’ speech went on. However, at the last sentence, it gave room to uncertainty. In the back of her mind she had often wondered if there was something wrong, for she spent a lot of time with her husband, and yet, nothing had happened. But her worries were always soothed by the fact her sister had not yet been with child either, and that she hadn’t been married for so long after all. And it was all forgotten when her husband sought her with no pressure and no demands, only love and desire. But Mrs. Jennings had awoken those worries, and they came about strongly. Stronger than before. The thought of disappointing him, not being able to produce an heir… it could drive a wedge between them, make him distant and grave. But she doubted he would ever leave her. Would he?

Not knowing what to say, and not wishing to speak to Mrs. Jennings at all, Mary-anne took her leave.

“Elinor, thank you for tea, but I’m afraid I really ought to get back. Excuse me.”

“I’ll walk you out, dearest.” Elinor stood as well.

As they walked to the door, Mrs. Jennings said, with a soft laugh

“Yes dear, you go get started on that heir now. You might even enjoy it, you’ll find.”

Mary-anne turned around, her cheeks crimson with rage. She wished to respond, but she bit her tongue as not to be rude and gave a furious sigh. Mrs. Jennings laughed.

Once they were out of the house and away from Mrs. Jennings’ hearing range, Mary-anne started, furiously

“That woman!! Can you believe her? My God, how will I ever put up with her in my house?”

“Well, yes dear, that was very rude of her,” Elinor said. “But… and do not be cross at me for asking this, are you refusing your husband?”

“Elinor!!”

“I’m sorry dear, but it does sound like something you would do. And I don’t think you would be as mad if Mrs. Jennings hadn’t hit a nerve there.” She lowered her voice. “As I recall, you did have your doubts about marrying him, about your feelings towards him, maybe you haven’t… had the courage yet? I only worry for your well being, my dear. It’s really not such a horrible event, you know, you could…”

“Elinor! Do I seem unwell to you?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Haven’t I told you? Haven’t you noticed? I love my husband, dear sister. I love him, did you not know?”

Elinor gave a wide smile.

“Yes, dear, I knew… I wasn’t sure you had quite caught on though. You can be quite stubborn, you know. I am glad for you then. Both of you.”

“Yes. I assure you we are very happy.” She lowered her voice. “And that he is more likely to refuse me than I him at any time.” Mary-anne smiled. Elinor raised her eyebrows and gave Mary-anne a surprised look.

“For shame, Mary-anne!”

“You asked, sister. Now, I must be off before Mrs. Jennings wonders what is taking you so long and comes out to vex me some more.”

 

Chapter 16: Fears and Doubts  
Chapter Text

Colonel Brandon sat in his study, writing letters and tending to his duties when there was a knock on his open door. He had already heard the front door and knew it was Mary-anne who had arrived. He looked up from his quill and papers and saw her standing at the threshold, still holding her bonnet, gripping it tightly. He smiled at her and she walked in, going around his desk to kiss his lips hello.

“How was your day, my dear?” He asked. She sat across from him as she answered.

“Excellent. Well, as excellent as a day that has Mrs. Jennings in it can be.” He wished to laugh but as she did not even smile at this remark, so he bit his tongue and only listened.

“Elinor and I visited some villagers. We brought them some baked goods, but mostly they are just lonely and need someone to converse with.”

“How very charitable of you ladies,” he smiled. “My Mary-anne, always sweet.”

She smiled back at him as she continued.

“We even had time to go for a ride earlier. Elinor misses riding as she did in Norland.”

“I do not see why as she is free to take a horse from the stables at anytime she fancies it.” He had his head down, writing as he spoke to his wife.

“She knows. But knowing my sister as I do, she probably does not feel comfortable doing it if not directly invited by you or myself.”

He gave a smile to show he knew what she meant and believed it to be true as well.

“We also paid Eliza a visit before going back to join Mrs. Jennings for tea.”

“How lovely. Eliza must have enjoyed having company other than us. Did Elinor like her?”

“Yes, very much. She says she will be paying her more visits.”

“I am glad.”

Mary-anne sat quietly for a long while, which prompted her husband to look up from his writing once more. She had a nervous countenance about her as she played with something or other on his desk, or fiddled with her bonnet. Before he could express any concern, she started.

“I have some joyous news.”

“Joyous? You do not look it.”

She smiled, though rather forcibly. “Yes, they are joyous.”

“Pray, tell.”

After a moment of nervous playing with an ink bottle on his desk, she finally let out “Elinor is with child.” He smiled at her and she continued. “But you cannot make any comments on it, for she hasn’t told Edward yet. She did not wish to tell even me. It was I who noticed and forced it from her.”

Her countenance was still not all her husband knew it to be when she was happy. And she was always pleased with the happiness of those she loved.

“That is joyous news indeed,” he said, putting down his quill.

“It is. I told you as much, my love.”

“And are you not happy for your sister?”

She put down the ink bottle with which she played and looked up at him, shocked.

“Of course I am! How could you think that? Do you not know me at all?” She was slightly outraged.

“I do,” he answered calmly. “That is why I can tell something weighs on your mind, despite you trying to pretend to me that all is well.”

Her countenance softened again and she looked down to her lap, her hands resting on it, the bonnet there as well, before sighing and letting out

“I am just worried, that is all.”

“About?”

She looked up at him and smiled a timid smile as his caring eyes fixated on her and waited for her answer. He soothed her a bit, but not completely.

“Well… we did not get married too long after them… And we spend a considerable amount of time together…” she lowered her voice and smiled “such splendid time… yet I… what if… what if I cannot bear a child? Perhaps my fever… changed something. What if I cannot give you an heir? Will you… Will you still love me as you do now?”

His heart sank in despair that she could think, fear, he would ever stop loving her. He stood up and went to the door to close it. She turned in her seat to see where he was going as he came back and knelt in front of her. He took both her hands in his and looked up at her, deep into her eyes.

“My Mary-anne. I did not ask you to become my wife so you could produce me an heir, though my reasons were selfish nonetheless. I married you because I love you and wish to have you by my side for the rest of my days. I married you because I need you. You alone are all I need. You alone make me the happiest man alive. And I can only hope that I am able to make you feel at least part of the happiness you bestow on me.” He pressed his lips to both her hands, one after the other, and continued. “Having a child would only add to that bliss, but the lack of one would never take away from it. Do not ever think I can possibly love you less, I only love you more with each passing day.”

Her eyes were filled with tears as she smiled.

“Christopher Brandon, you are the sweetest man to ever walk this earth. I love you very much.” She leaned down to kiss his lips.

“The question which remains is if you would not be content with only me, should what you fear be true.”

“I am extremely content, more than content, with only you. You are all I need.” She kissed him again.

He got up and leaned down to press his lips on hers over and over. “Then you have absolutely nothing to worry about.” He took his seat once more. “Has this been weighing on your mind for long?” He asked.

“It comes and goes… it was only made stronger today because of Elinor’s news. And due to Mrs. Jennings’ rudeness.” She looked angered all of a sudden.

“Mrs. Jennings?” He asked, bewildered.

“After she ripped Elinor’s news from her lips, she turned to me, vexing me about why I was not with child yet, that it must certainly mean I have refused you.”

Colonel Brandon began to laugh.

“Do not laugh! That woman drives me to madness! She said I would disappoint you for not providing an heir, which of course is what I feared. Hearing someone else say it only made it worse.”

He reached across the desk for her hand. She gave it with a timid smile.

“Why did you not tell me you had this on your mind?”

“Precisely because I feared what you might think, that you would be disappointed.”

“Never in you, sweetheart.” He smiled as he caressed her hand. “There is probably nothing to worry about. Once you put it out of your mind, it will happen.”

She kissed his hand.

“It is out of my mind already, my love.”

“In the meantime, no harm can come from practicing.” He gave a sly smile. She blushed.

“I do enjoy practicing.”

“And we’ll be sure to give Mrs. Jennings a bedchamber close to ours when she comes to stay, so she can be sure you are not refusing me,” he said while chuckling.

“Christopher! Don’t even jest about that! Imagine the comments she would have then!”

He laughed louder as he tried to return his attention to his writing.

Chapter 17: Inquiries  
Chapter Text

 

Since word got to Barton about Elinor being with child – a task that had to be rushed so the Dashwoods would not hear the news from Mrs. Jennings or Sir John’s lips – Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret came to Delaford, and were to stay for a prolonged visit. Delaford manor was therefore, full of guests, since Mrs. Jennings was now imposing herself on Mary-anne. Mary-anne had begged her sister to insist their mother and youngest sister stay with her as well, despite the fact they were there mainly to see Elinor.

So Mrs. Dashwood would spend the days with Elinor, even accompanied her in her duties and chores when it was the case, and in the evenings, they all went up to the manor for dinner, and Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret would spend the night. Mrs. Jennings often followed them, not wanting to be away from the source of excitement.

It was mid-afternoon and the Brandons sat at home. Colonel Brandon was in his study, going over some finances at his desk. One side of the double doors to this room was ajar, and beyond it, though he could not see them from his chair, Mary-anne was in the parlor, sitting on the sofa with her knitting. Margaret had grown tired of all the talk of babies and bearing children she was exposed to when she accompanied her mother to Elinor’s, so she had decided to stay behind and try to learn to knit with Mary-anne, who had claimed she had much to do but really only needed a break from Mrs. Jennings.

“Mary-anne?” Margaret started.

“Yes, Margaret?” She did not take her eyes off her knitting.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, of course.”

“What is love? How does one know one is in love?”

From behind his desk, Colonel Brandon couldn’t help but hear them. Upon hearing Margaret’s question, his interest peaked and he listened more carefully, seeing to his activities in a slower, less focused manner.

Mary-anne laughed. “And why do you ask me? Have you asked Mama?”

“I think I will obtain a better answer from you than I would from Mama. And Elinor most likely would not even answer. I watch you. And you seem to feel more intensely. I wish to hear from you.”

“But you are too young to worry of such things.”

“I am not! I am almost fifteen! And Mrs. Jennings says she will take me to London soon and find me a suitable husband.”

“Oh, Mrs.Jennings! She does not change her ways, does she?” Mary-anne was slightly annoyed.

“Well, she wished to match you to Colonel Brandon from the start. Was she not right to think so?”

Mary-anne blushed. “Well, yes, I cannot argue with you there, dearest.”

Colonel Brandon smiled as he looked up to his open door, seeing only the hallway and part of the parlor.

“That is why I trust her, see.” Margaret said.

Mary-anne laughed softly once more. “Alright, dearest. But I still believe you are too young. Do you pose this question because you already have an interest in someone?”

“No! I would just like to know. To be sure, when it happens.”

“That is very wise of you then. But you do remember I was foolish and made mistakes at first? It took me longer than it should to see the wonderful man the Colonel is. Maybe it would be wiser to ask Elinor. She was right in her choice straight away.”

As Colonel Brandon heard this, he became slightly worried Mary-anne was avoiding her sister’s question, that she did not wish to answer her, or that she did not know how to. He tried to shake those thoughts out of his head. He should not even be listening to their private conversation in the first place. She did love him. She did. He felt it, every day. He had promised her never to doubt that again.

“That only makes you wiser. You can warn me against making such mistakes as your own.” Margaret pressed on. “And I watch you with the Colonel. As I’ve said, it is noticeable you are in love. Both of you. Not quite so much with… anyone else.”

Mary-anne put down her knitting. “Well, you are too smart for your own good, aren’t you? I am honored you think of me as being so wise and able to impart knowledge. But it is rather quite hard to put in to words what love is. The whole extent of what it is. How you can know… and it may vary, from person to person for all I know.”

“Won’t you try?”

Colonel Brandon quietly got up from his chair and stood behind the closed half of his door, trying to listen closely but not be seen. He was pleased that it was obvious even to a young Margaret that her sister loved him so. If it was so obvious to others, even someone as young and inexperienced as Margaret, it must really be true. His insecurities faded more and more with each passing day.

“All right. I suppose… it is just not one thing. It is quite complex. It is at the same time a calmness that washes over you when you are with the one you love, and yet excitement. Your heart races, yet at times it slows down. Beware if you only feel excitement and rush and urgency. That is not love, at least not in my experience. When you love someone, even if you only sit with them in silence, you are pleased. It is not awkward, for you understand each other even if nothing is said. In fact, you will wish to sit with him in silence, for it is better than not being with him at all.”

“What else?”

“Every time you see him your palms sweat and you have to catch your breath. You enjoy talking to him; you wish to tell him everything, every single detail of your day, of your life. There are no secrets. Whenever something exciting or sad happens, he is the first you think of, the first you wish to share with.”

Colonel Brandon smiled widely as he leaned against the door.

“And you want to know everything about him as well. Not only what happens in the present, but what happened in his past, before you met. You even regret not having met him sooner and being there with him, to help him, to know him completely” Mary-anne smiled at Margaret. “Though that might not apply to you, you are too young.” She continued. “You feel safe with him, like no harm will ever befall you as long as he is there. You trust him with your life. With your heart. You know with every fiber in your being he would never hurt you, not intentionally, in any way.”

“That is beautiful, Mary-anne. I should read more poetry, to be able to express myself like that.” Margaret smiled.

“And simply seeing him smile lights up your day, makes your heart ache with happiness. He should also make you want to be better, to be the best you can be, always, so you can deserve him, for you know he is the best and treats you as if you are the only, the most beautiful and special woman in the world. I believe that is the gist of it… as best as I can explain, anyway.”

“See,” Margaret said smiling. “I knew you were the one to ask!” She started knitting again. After a moment of silence, she said “I hope I can find that someday.”

“I hope you do as well. You deserve it. You will. You have everything you need to find a worthy husband. And a mother, two sisters and a Mrs. Jennings to see that you do.” Mary-anne chuckled. “And what’s more, you now have two brothers who love you as well to help.” Mary-anne smiled. “They can scare off the one who are not suitable.” She said in a whisper. “That is more help than I had.”

Margaret laughed.

Colonel Brandon’s heart had filled to the point of explosion in the middle of Mary-anne’s speech and now he could barely contain himself. She had told him she loved him many times, demonstrated it with many actions, but never had he heard detailed in so many words all she felt. He took a moment to control himself and wipe the grin off his face, as to not give away he had been eavesdropping and stepped out of his study and into the parlor.

“How are you ladies?”

“Very well, Colonel.” Margaret answered as Mary-anne looked up and smiled at him.

“Miss Margaret,” he started

“You know, Colonel, I really miss being called Captain Margaret. Everyone is a Miss something. Being a captain is more special and exclusive.”

He smiled. “You are not a child anymore, I shall call you as propriety demands.”

“You can do that only in front of others. I see no harm in a brother calling a sister with fondness.” She smiled up at him.

“Very well, Captain Margaret. Would you allow me to steal my wife from your company for but a moment? I will bring her right back, Madame.”

“Certainly, Colonel.”

He chuckled as he offered his hand for Mary-anne to stand and accompany him to his study. Once they were there, he pulled her inside to a corner out of sight, but still closed the door for good measure.

“What is the matter, Christopher?”

With one hand behind her neck and the other on her waist, he pulled her in for a kiss. As their lips interlocked, he pushed her gently against a wall, deepening the kiss. Their tongues caressed one another as her hands slipped from his cheeks into his hair. They parted.

“Nothing, I just missed you,” he answered with a smile.

“Well, I miss your touch all day long, always.” She kissed his lips again.

“I should get back to work, and so should you, before we get carried away.”

“Yes. I love you.”

“I know.” He smiled. She was surprised by his words and confidence. Then she realized he must have heard what she said to Margaret, and smiled. “Yet, I love you more,” he finished.

Chapter 18: Picnic  
Chapter Text

Mary-anne sat in the parlor, attentive to her needlework. Her stomach rumbled so it must have been past lunchtime, but Christopher had not yet arrived. She could not take it any longer, her concentration in her work escaped her. She got up, walking to the dining room. Before she turned the corner of the doorway, she started

“Ruth? Has Colonel Brandon not arrived yet?”

He stood in the dining room, leaning on the table, looking at her and smiling.

“Expecting someone?” He winked playfully.

“Yes! You, my sweet. I am starving. Let us eat. When did you come in? I did not hear you.” She walked over and gave him a kiss.

“I came in through the kitchens.”

But she didn’t quite pay attention to that, for she was looking at the table. Exasperated, she asked

“Why is the table not set? Ruth!”

“Let poor Ruth be. It was I who said she need not set it today. I thought you might enjoy a picnic,” he said as he moved away from the table to reveal a basket upon it. “It is a beautiful autumn day. You can contemplate all the leaves falling and the trees, and the wind… before it turns colder still and such adventures become truly impossible.” He kissed her forehead.

“You know me so well,” she said as she took his arm. “Then let us go swiftly, or I might eat you, I’m so hungry!”

“Do not tempt me, my dearest,” he said with a smile as he took the basket and escorted her outside.

They went to their back garden, which, much like sir John’s, had benches and all sorts of lovely flowers, a gazebo and a trellis with plants growing along it. They walked beyond that immediate piece of land until they found a lovely pond surrounded by fruit-trees. A nice, quiet place where no one would bother them.

Colonel Brandon laid the basket down by the pond, took the blanket he had carried with it and laid it on the green grass, not in the shadow of a tree but in the sunlight, for it was autumn and a cool weather was already upon them.

Mary-anne looked at him while he prepared their spot and smiled dearly. He looked at her rather shyly and inquired what was the matter.

“I believe,” she said, “I have married the only gentleman in all the realm that still woos his lady after he has already secured her in marriage. How blessed I am.”

“Well,” he said as he took her hand and helped her down onto the blanket, “you were generous enough to accept my marriage proposal, the least I can do is make sure you never regret that decision.” He sat down beside her.

“I would never,” and she leaned in to press her lips to his.

He opened the basket and before anything else, he took out a bouquet of sunflowers and lavender and presented it to her. She took it with a smile and smelled them. From the basket he produced a vase and set it in the middle of the blanket. She placed the bouquet in it. For their lunch, he had taken sandwiches, cake and fruit. They ate as they engaged in merry conversation. She inquired if he had made the sandwiches himself and with an affirmative response, praised his cooking abilities.

He had packed plates and cutlery so they could eat cake and not get frosting on their hands. Mary-anne, however, grazed a finger on the frosting and smeared some on his lips, only to clean them with her lips and tongue soon after. He smiled as he kissed her in response, and again her fingers approached his face with frosting on them. He, however, took her hand midair and sucked her fingers clean. She felt her cheeks and bosom flush red and hot, and desires came about in her being, though she had started it all in good fun. He proceeded to kiss her knuckles, her palm, and his lips traveled up her arm and shoulder and neck before finding her lips. The kiss was short but sweet and left her yearning for more. He proceeded to feeding her grapes, and she in turn sucked on his fingers as well while he did it.

“Mrs. Brandon, shall you continue this behavior, I will not be able to control myself much longer.”

She smiled and moved to sit in between his legs, her back against his chest. She contemplated the sunny skies, the yellow, orange and brown leaves atop the trees, the birds in flight, and she sighed in content. Could there be greater felicity?

Christopher’s arm wrapped around her, under her breast, his hand falling to her stomach. Suddenly, his lips were at her ear, his sweet velvety voice whispering:

 

Joy of my life, full oft for loving you

I bless my lot, that was so lucky placed:

But then the more your own mishap I rue,

That are so much by so mean love embased.

For had the equal heavens so much you graced

In this as in the rest, ye might invent

Some heavenly wit, whose verse could have enchased

Your glorious name in golden monument.

But since ye deign’d so goodly to relent

To me your thrall, in whom is little worth,

That little that I am shall all be spent

In setting your immortal praises forth;

Whose lofty argument uplifting me

Shall lift you up unto an high degree.*

 

His hot breath on her neck and the sound of his voice made her body quiver, and the sweet words made her heart overflow with love. She turned and was on her knees in between his thighs, her hands on his shoulders, his on her waist. As she looked into his eyes, more green than hazel today, she recited

 

Long-while I sought to what I might compare  
Those powerful eyes, which lighten my dark spright;  
Yet find I naught on earth, to which I dare  
Resemble th’ image of their goodly light.

Not to the Sun; for they do shine by night;  
Nor to the Moon; for they are changed never;  
Nor to the Stars; for they have purer sight;  
Nor to the Fire; for they consume not ever;

Nor to the Lightning; for they still perséver;  
Nor to the Diamond; for they are more tender;  
Nor unto Crystal; for nought may them sever;  
Nor unto Glass; such baseness mought offend her.

Then to the Maker self they likest be,  
Whose light doth lighten all that here we see.**

 

He smiled, his heart so content he could finally recite all the poetry he had read and memorized while thinking of her ever since he had met her, with no fear of scaring her away from him. He pulled her closer and kissed her lips, then moved them to her ear and whispered once more

More than most fair, full of the living fire,

Kindled above unto the maker near:

No eyes but joys, in which all powers conspire,

That to the world naught else be counted dear.

Through your bright beams doth not the blinded guest,

Shoot out his darts to base affections wound:

But Angels come to lead frail minds to rest

In chaste desires on heavenly beauty bound.

You frame my thoughts and fashion me within,

You stop my tongue, and teach my heart to speak,

You calm the storm that passion did begin,

Strong through your cause, but by your virtue weak.

Dark is the world, where your light shined never;

Well is he born, that may behold you ever.***

 

“You make me lost for words, Christopher. I cannot even remember poetry to recite to you. None would convey exactly how I feel. All I can say is I truly and deeply love you with all my heart.” She kissed his hand and then his lips, and soon he started once more

 

Oh, my love’s like a red, red rose… ****

 

“Christopher, stop!” She said smiling as she threw herself on him and they both went to the ground. He laughed heartily as she kissed him all over.  
Notes:

* Sonnet LXXXII - Edmund Spenser  
** Sonnet IX - Edmund Spenser  
*** Sonnet VIII - Edmund Spenser  
**** Robert Burns

Chapter 19: Surprises  
Chapter Text

It had been a normal morning in the Brandon household. After breakfast, Colonel Brandon had left to tend to his duties with the promise of returning for lunch at around midday. Mary-anne was getting ready to go about her day when an urgent post arrived. Usually, such posts were directed to her husband, about some matter of business or other. So when she heard a horse approaching and Ruth answering the door, she lamented that the messenger had narrowly missed him.

However, when Ruth handed her the missive as she stepped out of the breakfast parlor and into the foyer, she saw it was addressed to her. It came from Barton. She opened it quickly, her heart beating at her throat, her mind wondering what could be wrong.

The letter was from Margaret. It stated that their mother had fallen ill, an infectious fever much like the one Mary-anne herself had had. Sir John had retrieved Margaret from the cottage, for her safety, and she was staying at the Park. He had also sent a servant of his own, with ample experience in tending to the sickly, to help Betsy look after Mrs. Dashwood. Sir John had not wished to disturb Mary-anne or Elinor, for it had only been a day or two since the fever had gotten hold of her, and the doctor was visiting regularly. He had hopes of their mother being back on her feet before they were disturbed. But Margaret took it upon herself to send word to them secretively, for she was very worried, and if she could not persuade Sir John to allow her to leave the Park and take care of her mother, she hoped one of her sisters could.

Mary-anne was in despair, trying to think rapidly of what could be done, what should be done. When she was resolved as to what her actions would be, Edward burst through the door with Elinor.

“You’ve had word?” Elinor asked.

“Yes, I was just about to go upstairs to gather a few things and ride to Barton.”

“Good, I will ride with you.”

“No, Elinor, please! Consider your condition! You cannot be in that cottage, for your health and your child’s.”

“Thank you,” Edward said with concern in his eyes. “I’ve been telling her just that, but she will not listen to me.”

“Nor will I listen to Mary-anne! I cannot sit here knowing Mama is ill! It won’t be good for my health either. Consider my nerves, how they will be.”

Mary-anne and Edward exchanged looks of understanding. She had spoken the truth. Still, Edward looked very concerned.

“All right, Elinor, you can ride with me,” Mary-anne started. Edward’s eyes widened. “With the condition that you promise me and Edward this moment that you will stay at Barton Park with Margaret, and wait for news from me there. You are not to enter that cottage while Mama’s fever persists.”

Edward looked at Mary-anne with relief and gratitude. Elinor agreed to the terms reluctantly.

“Go home and pack while I do the same, we will leave within the hour,” Mary-anne said.

“I am already packed. Edward dear, would you fetch my trunk for me? I hope you don’t mind if I wait here, Mary-anne.” Elinor said as she sat in the parlor.

“Of course not,” Mary-anne said. She sent a servant out to ready the carriage and another to fetch the trunk with Edward. “Edward, if you see Christopher on your way back home, would you tell him what has happened?”

Edward, who was already at the door, leaving behind the servant, looked back and nodded to her.

Mary-anne went upstairs. As she threw some dresses and belongings into a trunk, she started to cry. She tried to appear strong for Elinor, but her heart was overwhelmed with concern and fear for their mother. She was not sure she could handle it all on her own. She wished to speak to Christopher before she left. He certainly would know how to comfort and reassure her.

But she finished her packing and went downstairs to find Edward waiting with Elinor already, and he had not seen Colonel Brandon. Mary-anne sent the servant out with her trunk and told Elinor she would only be a few minutes longer, for she had to write a note to her husband. Edward assured her he would come back and speak to him as well.

Mary-anne entered her husband’s study as the Ferrars went to the carriage. She sat at his desk and pulled a piece of paper from the desk drawer, a quill from the holder in front of her and she began

 

Christopher, my love

 

I have just received this letter from Margaret. Mama is ill, and I am leaving almost this instant for Barton to be with her. Elinor is coming with me, and we will take the carriage. But as we do not know when we will be back, I will send the carriage right back, should you need it. Please reassure Edward I will not allow Elinor to be around Mama. I believe he is still worried due to her condition. And do not worry yourself to death about me either. I must go. I wish I could speak to you before I left, and kiss your soft lips to soothe my nerves, though I am certain you will understand my haste in going. I will miss you dearly, and I hope to be back soon. I love you with all my heart. I will write every day.

 

Yours always,

Mary-anne.

 

 

She left her note, along with Margaret’s letter, on the desk where he could plainly see them. Nonetheless, on her way out, she asked Ruth to warn him she had left a note explaining everything.

 

******

 

They arrived at Barton some time past midday. Mary-anne told the coachman to stop at the Park first, knowing full well that dropping Elinor off with Sir John and Miss Jennings first would ensure that her promise be kept. She went inside to say a quick hello to everyone and left for the cottage with the promise that on the morrow, Elinor could go to the yard at the cottage and she would meet her outside with news.

Upon arrival at the cottage, she relieved Betsy of her duties of sitting by Mrs. Dashwood. Betsy informed her that the doctor had been there before midday and would return late afternoon. Harriet, the servant Sir John had sent, was sleeping, for she had been up all night with Mrs. Dashwood.

Mary-anne sat all afternoon with her mother in silence. The few times she had regained some small part of consciousness, it seemed she was delusional with the fever. Nevertheless she managed to ask for Margaret, and show concern for Mary-anne being there, but soon she fell back into her feverish slumber. Mary-anne’s stomach churned with concern and anxiety. It was quite an exercise for her to try and maintain herself relatively calm.

Late afternoon was upon them and the doctor finally called. Mary-anne met him in the parlor and listened attentively as he described her mother’s situation and how on his last visit, she had been worse than he had expected, worse than the night before. This made Mary-anne noticeably anxious, and the doctor began

“Do not fright, Mrs. Brandon. She is bound to get better soon. I will check on her now, administer some medicine and bleed her. She should show improvement during the night. And should you need me before my next appointed visit, I am very close by, at Allenham. A servant or messenger will reach me easily and I will be back shortly, should you call.”

“At Allenham?”

“Yes. Mrs. Smith has fallen terribly ill. I am afraid her time has come, though I am doing all I can.”

“Oh, that poor woman! And all alone in that house…”

“She is not alone. Her nephew, a Mr. Willoughby, has come to see to her. His wife is expected in a few days as well. He showed quite some concern when I mentioned I was to divide my time between his aunt and Mrs. Dashwood. Are you acquainted with him?”

Mary-anne grew pale the moment he mentioned Willoughby’s name, and it only became worse as his speech continued. It was as if all the blood had left her body when the doctor mentioned he was there by himself. She had to sit down, for her legs grew weak and her hands grew cold. If the doctor mentioned to him she was there and alone, he might want to come to her. How would she keep him out, keep him away from her? She thought the presence of her mother’s servant, Thomas, would not discourage him from imposing his presence, if he so chose to.

“No, I do not know him” she told the doctor, in hopes he would report it and any thought that might cross Mr. Willoughby’s mind would be brutally shot down at the knowledge she hadn’t even admitted to knowing him.

But her nerves were not settled. They were increasingly running out of her control as she thought of all that might happen, of her mother’s health, of having to meet Willoughby for the first time in a long time in such a frail state of mind. He had a way of bending words to his advantage, she remembered. She had not seen him since that dreadful night in London a twelvemonth ago, and though she had no feelings for him anymore, no good feelings at least, she was not sure how it would feel to see him again, and she did not wish to find out while alone.

“Mrs. Brandon, calm yourself! It would not do your health any good to remain agitated like this. Your mother will be well, do not worry yourself so.”

“Forgive me, I… I…”

But she could not speak. The doctor offered her something for her to calm down and strongly encouraged her to take it. Betsy reassured her she would accompany him to Mrs. Dashwood’s room, and the doctor reassured her he would not leave without giving her a full report of his examination. Mary-anne took the medicine and sat in the parlor, waiting for him to come back down. She quickly began to feel calmer. So much so, that she fell asleep on the sofa.

Chapter 20: Many Surprises

Chapter Text

Willoughby was knocking on the door. She did not answer, but he would not leave. He knocked more furiously and threatened to break a window. He needed to speak to her and would not take no for an answer. Her anxiety grew. Suddenly, he was inside, she did not understand how; a hand was on her shoulder gently shaking her.

She woke with a start to see her husband on his knees in front of her.

“Christopher?” She reached out her hand and touched his cheek to make sure he was really there.

“Yes, my dear.” He took her hand in his and pressed his lips to it.

“You did not need to come!” She said, though she felt relieved he was there. “You should not trouble yourself with this, my love.”

“Of course I came! We are married, if you recall,” he held up his hand with the ring she bestowed on him and smiled. “Your troubles are my troubles, love. I would not leave you to go through this alone.” He kissed her finger that held her wedding ring.

She smiled. “You are not cross with me then?”

“Why would I be?” He continued to caress her hands.

“Because I know how you worry for my health. I thought you would not want me here.”

“I do worry about you, always. But of course you had to come. And I would never be cross with you, for any reason at all.”

His hands slipped up to her waist and she leaned in to kiss him. She then noticed it was dark out already, and remembered the doctor upstairs.

“The doctor!” She let out as she tried to stand. He sat her back down and started

“He has already left. I arrived as he finished his examination. He said Mrs. Dashwood is doing better than she was this morning, though she still is not out of danger.”

Just hearing she was doing better made Mary-anne breathe easier.

“He will be back early tomorrow morning to bleed her again,” her husband continued. “If we should need him, he is close by and won’t be long in arriving. Apparently… there is another patient, down at Allenham.”

For one moment his gaze wondered away from her and she could see he was thinking about something – someone – with much anger, perhaps even hate. Her hands went to his cheek and his eyes focused on her again, and he smiled.

“He also told me he gave you something for your nerves. So you need to let me take you upstairs, so you can rest.”

She smiled as she caressed his cheek. “Thank you for coming. I am very glad you did.” She kissed his forehead, then his nose, then his lips.

“Of course I did,” he said when their lips broke apart. “She is my mama as well.”

Mary-anne smiled. “I should go sit with her,” she said as she tried to stand up and learned she was still rather groggy. Colonel Brandon stood quickly and held her.

“You, my angel are going to lie down and rest,” he whispered in her ear as he led her upstairs. “Harriet is sitting with her and I will go as well once I get you in bed.”

 

*****

 

She sat on the bed in her old room, her head resting on the bed post while she watched as he lit a fire in the grate.

“There isn’t enough firewood to last the night. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just outside, to chop some wood. I won’t take long.”

“No, Christopher! It’s late, and dark out. You are not going to chop wood now! Stay here with me.”

She did not want him outside, she did not know why. Some irrational fear she could not quite explain in her state. Could Willoughby be out there and do something to him? Or was it just she did not wish to be alone, could not handle being alone now that he was here? She did not need to act the strong, determined part now, and could simply give in to all the fears and anxieties swirling inside her, because he was here, and he would hold her and soothe her.

He let go of the doorknob and went to her. “I will be right back, my love,” he said caressing her cheeks. He then kissed her forehead. “Do not worry yourself.” And he left.

Though still slightly dizzy, she went to the window and watched as he put down the lantern and swung the axe, chopping various pieces of wood, each with only one swing. Though they had been married for months now, he never failed to surprise her. She had never thought he would know how to chop wood when he probably had had someone to do it for him all his life. She certainly had never seen her father do it, there was always a servant for that. But Christopher was a very special kind of man. She stared out the window at him and mused at how lucky she was to have such a husband. So devoted to her, so loving and caring. So strong and passionate, and chivalrous and sweet. She had a perfect and happy life, if only her mother’s health would recover.

The worry she had been harboring since the doctor mentioned Willoughby was only a few miles away, of how she would act and what she would feel if a meeting happened, all of it subsided at once, as her heart filled with love while she watched her husband. There were no words or no sight that could confuse her enough to lead her away from such feelings.

She didn’t even notice he had already come inside. He came in the room and she looked back from the window and smiled. He left the door open, for his hands were occupied carrying the logs, and she could hear her mother rambling and coughing in the other room. She sat on the bed again and looked at the door with worry, listening to her mother, while he fed the fire.

He went across the room and closed the door and went to her. She smiled a feeble smile up at him. He caressed her cheek and then her hair, before going to her trunk and opening it. After looking around for a while, he said

“Mary-anne, I don’t think you’ve packed a nightgown, love.”

“I packed rather quickly, I must have forgotten.”

Colonel Brandon had ridden to Barton as soon as he read Mary-anne’s note and Margaret’s letter. He had gone on horseback, to make better time. Therefore, he only took a small riding bag with a change of clothes and his nightshirt. He opened his bag and took out the nightshirt, handing it to her.

“And what will you sleep in? You’ll be cold. I don’t need this, you can keep me warm,” she smiled up at him.

“You are married to an army man. I will manage,” he smiled. “I’ve slept in worse conditions than this.” He placed the nightshirt on the bed beside her and pulled her up to help her undress. She was leading such a happy life. But a sudden fear struck her. Could it last long? Luck did run out eventually, it could not last a lifetime.

As she pulled on his nightshirt, she heard her mother cough again. She sat back down on the bed. She could no longer be strong. She started to cry, profusely. He knelt in front of her and caressed her cheeks, wiping away whatever tears he could.

“Sweetheart,” he let out.

“Oh, Chris.” It was the first time she called him that outside their most intimate of times. Apparently it was for whenever she felt closest to him, however that may come about. “What if she dies? I don’t think I can take it. I am so scared!” She was still sobbing, tears running down her cheeks like a waterfall.

He pulled her down into his arms and sat on the floor with his back against the bed, cradling her as she cried. He wished to promise her that would not happen, her mother would not die, but he could not lie. It was a possibility. He also tried to push away the thoughts that had been haunting him all afternoon. He was but five years younger than his mother-in-law. If it was her time to go, his might not be a long way away either. And he was so happy, finally. His life was indeed perfect. He wished to enjoy it longer.

He pressed his lips against her temple.

“It will be all right. I am here for you, love.”

He held and rocked her for a long while, until she had stopped crying and seemingly fallen asleep. He lifted her up and put her in bed, pulling the covers from under her to cover her. He intended to go down to the kitchen and eat something, for he left Delaford in such a hurry he hadn’t even eaten lunch, but as he turned the doorknob he heard her shaky voice ask

“Won’t you stay with me?”

He looked into her puffy red eyes.

“Of course I will. I am just going to warn Harriet she can come call us at anytime for whatever might be needed.”

He was back in moments. He unbuttoned his waist coat and untied his cravat, throwing them aside, to a chair. He sat on the bed and took off his boots and trousers. Mary-anne was crying again, though more quietly. His heart ached to see her like this. He got under the covers behind her, and held his hand to her heart as he embraced her.

 

****

 

He turned to embrace her but her side of the bed was empty. He opened his eyes and saw it was still dark out. The sun had not risen, but Mary-anne Brandon had. He saw her already dressed, in front of the mirror, pinning up her hair.

He watched her with a smile on his face for she did always have that effect on him. When she turned and saw he was awake, she smiled back, though it was not the bright smile she always had.

“Good morning my sweet Christopher.” She walked over and sat on the bed.

“Good morning, my Mary-anne. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, “thank you. I’m going to sit with Mama and wait for the doctor to call. You go back to sleep. I imagine you rode fast as the wind to get here. Faster than needed. You must be exhausted.” She kissed him again and rose from the bed.

“I’ll go make you breakfast.”

“No need, my love, I am not hungry. Go back to sleep.”

She left the room and closed the door behind her. He listened as she went down the hall and, moments later, what he presumed were Harriet’s footsteps trotted down the stairs. He got up and washed before dressing himself, and went down to the kitchen. It was empty, for it was still very early. He made some eggs and toast and tea, placing them all on a tray and taking them upstairs.

Mrs. Dashwood’s door was open. He peeked in and saw she was still unconscious, in bed, muttering, certainly due to some delusion caused by the fever. Mary-anne sat in a chair next to the bed and watched her, a worried countenance about her. He walked in and upon hearing his footsteps, she turned.

“Christopher, I told you I wasn’t hungry. You needn’t have.”

“You must eat something, Mary-anne,” he whispered as he placed the tray on a table beside her.

“I can’t!”

“At least some toast with tea.” She looked up at him. “Go on,” he said.

She picked up a piece of toast and reluctantly bit into it. He sat down beside her and watched as she ate slowly, her gaze jolting to her mother whenever there was muttering or movement.

“What about you, have you eaten?”

“Do not worry about me. I will eat later.”

She ate a few pieces of toast and drank all the tea and said she was done. He went back into the kitchen and made himself some tea. He scrambled some more eggs and added the eggs she had not eaten to reheat. He ate them with the toast she had left untouched.

The sun rose and morning went on. The doctor came and while he administered the medicine and examined Mrs. Dashwood, Colonel Brandon waited with Mary-anne in the hallway, by the door to her room. Mrs. Dashwood’s fever had subsided a bit compared to the previous examination, which was good news. The doctor would be back by lunch, but if she continued progressing like this, she would be out of danger in no time.

Mary-anne sat with her mother again, and Colonel Brandon went outside for some fresh air. On his way out, in the closet in the hallway, he found his old friend, the stool on which he sat when reading to Mary-anne months ago, when he tried to win her heart. He took it outside.

Mary-anne watched through her mother’s bedroom window as he placed the stool on the grass and sat with his back to the house. He sunk his teeth into a peach and watched the horizon, the breeze ruffling his hair.

It wasn’t long before Mary-anne was at the hall, pulling on her coat. She walked outside with her fold-up chair. She placed it next to him, facing the opposite direction, and sat down.

“Shall we reminisce, my dear Colonel Brandon?” and she handed him a book.

“I don’t remember there being much ‘dear Colonel Brandons’ back then.” He smiled as he tossed the peach pit far.

“Never through my lips, but always in my heart. And there will be plenty now, to make up for it all, my dear, my love, my sweet.” She blew him a kiss.

He smiled and looked down to the book, analyzing it and recognizing it as one from their library.

“You did not bring a nightgown, but you packed a book?”

“Yes. My priorities are in order.”

He laughed.

“I thought you wouldn’t leave your mother’s side.”

“Well, Betsy is with her. Besides, I need to wait for Elinor. She is coming for an update on Mama’s condition and she is not to go through those doors under any circumstance. I’ll wait out here so she won’t fool me.”

“Ah yes. Edward demanded my word as well that I will not allow it.”

She smiled and tapped the book in his lap.

“Read on, my dearest Colonel, while we still have time.”

He was reading to her for some time already when he looked up while turning pages and saw a horseman coming down a slope towards the house. Though he was relatively far, Colonel Brandon recognized him at once. The horseman stopped in the middle of the slope and stared, as though he did not expect to find Colonel Brandon there.

Mary-anne noticed how her husband’s attentions were shifted from the book to the horizon. She did not need to look back. The anger in his gaze told her everything she needed to know. Would he dare come here? She did not care anymore, but she did need to calm her husband down, or Lord knows what might happen.

“Christopher.” He did not pay any heed. “Chris, my love.” That caught his attention. As he looked at her, his eyes softened. She smiled. “Kiss me, Chris.”

He could not deny her. He leaned in, smiling, and pressed his lips to hers. She took his face in between her hands and deepened the kiss, not caring who might be watching or not. When they broke apart she caressed his hair.

“Are you calmer, love?”

He looked up at the slope and there was no horseman in sight.

“Forgive me, Mary-anne. I just…loathe him.”

“Do not waste time and energy on him, he is not worth it.”

Before they could resume their reading, Elinor approached.

 

Chapter 21: Indecent Proposal  
Chapter Text

 

They had been at Barton Cottage for four days and Mrs. Dashwood’s fever had finally subsided. She was awake and eager to see her children. All her children. And the doctor had declared it would be of no consequence if Elinor visited for a few hours a day.

Mary-anne was excited to go fetch her sisters to see their Mama, who was finally out of danger. Colonel Brandon suggested they send Thomas to warn them, but Mary-anne yearned for a walk.

“Then let me come with you, angel,” Colonel Brandon said.

“You know I adore our walks together, my love,” she stretched on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “but I think it is best if one of us stays here, in case Mama needs something. Could you?” She caressed his hair and her hand gently slid down to his cheek, then his chest, where they rested as she looked up pleadingly at him. He smiled and nodded. “I will be back in no time,” she said.

She happily strolled through the fields thinking how glad she was her mother was recovering. She had been anxious for her health for days now, and the relief she felt was heavenly. She thought how happy her sisters would be to finally be able to see their mother.

It was a beautiful day, though chilly. Mary-anne remembered it had been quite a while - a few days before they arrived at Barton – since she hadn’t taken a walk with her husband. She thought maybe she should have let him come. Surely Betsy and Thomas could tend to her mother on their own for a short while.

She felt a hand close around her wrist and for a split second she thought Christopher had followed her after all. But it wasn’t him. It wasn’t his tender touch. It felt wrong. Before she could pull herself away from this stranger’s grip, the hand whirled her to face its owner.

“I thought he would never let you out of his sight.”

She was suddenly staring into Willoughby’s eyes, only inches away from his face. His smile, so wicked, intoxicated her as it had before, and she was reminded of how much she had once longed to be this close to him. To feel his breath on her skin. She was dizzy, stunned.

“I have thought of you every day. I could never forget you, Mary-anne. And I know you have thought of me as well.”

Her name escaping his lips did not sound right. It felt wrong, disgusting. And the presumption! Saying she was thinking of him too. It was true that for some time she had. She had cried for him, longed for him. But he was oh so very unworthy of her tears. She wanted to pull away from his slimy hands but she was still shocked and couldn’t move. And his lips so close… his eyes looking at her so adoringly. What she wouldn’t have given to have had this a twelvemonth ago…

“It won’t be long now, Mary-anne. My aunt… she is going to perish. And she has forgiven me for… what happened, so I am to inherit everything from her as was originally planned. I won’t need my wife’s money anymore. We can run away, you and I. I’ll take care of you.”

Whatever weakness she was still feeling quickly faded. He was actually hoping for his aunt to die so he could have his inheritance! That was so low, even for him. Forgiven me for what happened he said. What happened? What he caused more like it! He had not even cared what happened to Eliza. Did he know he had a daughter? Did he care? While she still pinned for him and hoped he would want to meet his daughter… And again he would have the courage to abandon a child of his, to abandon his pregnant wife and pull herself away from any good society, proposing she leave her husband. Her sweet husband, who at this moment looked after her mother, who had left his property and duties behind to accompany her and comfort her and help her mother in her time of need. Her husband, who loved her so deeply she could feel it every time he looked at her, every time they kissed. Her husband who she loved with all her heart.

She felt utterly disgusted by Willoughby’s touch, his breath so close to her, his presence. She managed to wrench herself free and took several steps back.

“How… dare you?” She couldn’t say anymore. He didn’t deserve anymore of her words. She began to walk back to the cottage, forgetting what she’d gone out to do.

“Mary-anne, I know it is what you want as well. You have surely forgiven me for what I had to do. But I do love you.” He was following her.

“Stay away from me! Do NOT follow me.” She said without turning around and hurrying her step.

“You wish to do the right thing, but if … he gets word of us meeting here, it will be enough for him to leave you. And I will be waiting for you. I will take you away.” She walked faster and he stayed behind.

“I will wait for you here every afternoon for the next week,” he shouted out for her to hear. “When you come to meet me again I will know your answer.”

She walked on without looking back. She felt dirty for having had him so close to her. Disgusted. But was he right? Would Christopher leave her? Would he believe she met him out of her own free will? She had asked him to stay in the house… and he did hate Willoughby very much, with reason. But to the point of blinding him thus? Nothing had happened! It was not her fault, Willoughby sought her out. Though she had insisted on going alone. Christopher could think it was all arranged. Maybe she should not mention anything, pretend it never happened. But what if Willoughby found a way to let him know? He seemed to believe she still felt something for him. He might see it as helpful means to “free” her. Would he do such a thing? Christopher could just find out on his own. And she hadn’t exactly refused Willoughby. She was so outraged she couldn’t even form a sentence properly. Dear God, what would become of her? There was also the possibility that someone else saw. These thoughts raged through her head, worrying her sick.

She was at the cottage and as she walked in, she inadvertently slammed the door. She paced the parlor, not knowing what to do, her nerves getting the better of her, when Colonel Brandon came down the stairs.

“That was quick indeed.”

She looked up at him and could not hide the distress in her countenance. He stopped on the last step down.

“Mary-anne, what is it?”

This time her name sounded so right. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything and she paced over to the dining room.

“Mary-anne?” He followed her. She stopped by the fire. “Mary-anne, you are worrying me. Please tell me what is wrong.”

“I… I don’t think I can.”

“Mary-anne. It’s me, love. You can tell me anything.”

“You’ll be cross with me, I couldn’t bear it.” She began to turn pink in the cheeks. Clearly her distress was rising.

“Mary-anne, tell me. I would never be angry with you.” He came closer to her and held her face with both his hands. She looked up at him with worried eyes and then stepped away, looking into the fire.

“I... I was on my way to the Park when… when Willoughby approached me.” She looked back at him and saw that Colonel Brandon’s countenance grew rigid and grave. “I swear I did not know he was out there! I had even forgotten he was in the neighborhood.”

“Did he hurt you?” He asked coolly. His hands were behind his back.

“No. I got away from him as quickly as I could.”

Colonel Brandon went to the window. He gazed outside as he asked “What did he want? I assume he did not ask of the child he left behind, uncared for.”

“No. He… he wanted me to run away with him.”

Colonel Brandon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, clenching his fists and leaning one forearm on the wall next to the window. The room was silent for a few long minutes. Then she went to him and touched his back. He did not pull away from her, a good sign. “Are you cross with me, Christopher?”

“No,” he answered curtly, still looking out the window.

“You are angry, I can see it. You have to know I did not wish for this. I am disgusted by him, his audacity. I love you and I would never do such a thing to you. Never!”

“I am angry, but not at you, angel.”

She placed herself in front of him.

“Then kiss me so I’ll know it is true.”

He looked down at her and his countenance softened a bit. He leaned in to kiss her, gently at first, and then he deepened the kiss as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her from the floor. He put her down and their lips broke apart, and she smiled up at him, relieved.

“I love you and I trust you. You need not worry. And if you ever do feel the wish to leave me, I will know it was I who have wronged you somehow.”

He went to the hall to put on his coat, which hung there.

“Where are you going?”

“Your mother is waiting for your sisters. I shall go and fetch them.”

“No, he might still be out there! You might run into him.”

“If I do, all the better.” He opened the door.

She ran to position herself in between him and the entrance.

“No, Christopher! I beg of you! Do not challenge him to duel once more.” Despair slowly filled her heart.

He looked at her, confused. Was she worried for the cad’s life?

“Mary-anne, do you understand the gravity of what he did against me, yet once again? How disrespectful he was? Towards you. Towards us! To proposition my wife to run off with him? He has to pay.”

“Do you understand, Christopher, the awful dishonorable person he is? Nothing would stop him from cheating to beat you! And I have just spent the better part of a week worried sick for Mama, wondering if I could ever recover were she to die.” She was agitated and tears started to fill her eyes. “But with you I need not wonder. I know for certain that I could not survive without you with me.” Tears rolled abundantly down her face and her voice rose as her complexion became crimson. I cannot live without you. There is no me without you. So please, Chris, do not put yourself in harm’s way, I beg of you, please!” She screamed the last words and he closed the door he had held open behind her. He held her in a tight embrace, one hand on her back and the other caressing her hair.

“All right, love, all right. Hush now.”

His heart filled with love, joy, excitement. She had never professed her love so ardently before. As fervently as he felt for her.

She still cried and he pulled away, his hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs whipping away the tears.

“It’s all right, sweetheart, it’s all right.” He kissed her lips. “I won’t go. I love you too, darling.”

She began to calm down, and he headed for the kitchen. Would he go out the back door?

“Chris??” She sounded alarmed.

“I am only going to ask Thomas to go warn your sisters. I will be right back.”

When he stepped back, she was sitting on the sofa in the parlor. He was holding his coat, not wearing it, and Thomas came behind him.

“I will come back with them, Mr. Brandon.”

“Thank you, Thomas.”

He hung his coat and sat beside her, holding her to his chest and caressing her hair.

The next time Willoughby saw Mary-anne go by the appointed spot, she was in a carriage with her husband, heading back to Delaford.

 

Chapter 22: Snowed In  
Chapter Text

It had been snowing intermittently for days. Both Mary-anne and Colonel Brandon did not much care for London, so they had stayed behind in the country for the season. Due to the snow, Colonel Brandon could not carry out most of his duties, so he had much leisure time. Mary-anne was more than happy to help occupy such time, and they spent their days together, reading and playing duets. They often just sat by the fire and conversed, exchanging caresses, him with his cup of tea to keep warm and she with a cup of hot cocoa, which she had recently discovered and loved, and he, always happy to oblige to her every whim and desire, moved heaven and earth to have it brought in for her.

They sat in the library, on a sofa before the fireplace. He had her legs over his lap and over them he held the book he read. She herself read another book. Suddenly, she closed her book and watched him as he read on.

“Yes, my love?” He asked without lifting his gaze from his reading.

She moved closer, leaning into him and placed a peck on his cheek. “I am bored.” She kissed his neck.

“Bored of reading? You? My goodness, we really do have a problem then,” he said as he lowered his book to better appreciate her caresses.

“I feel like I’ve read all the books in this library,” she said as she caressed his chest, her hands then going up so her fingers could sink in his hair. His hand, now free of his book, slid up her thigh to her waist as he pulled her closer to press his lips against hers.

“I am quite sure that is an impossible feat for just five or so months of being here,” he smiled. She pressed her lips to his. “If you are bored,” he continued, “what do you propose we do then, my dear?” he asked as his hands went back to caressing her legs, which lay on his lap.

“Let us go outside. It has stopped snowing for the moment. I miss the fresh air.”

“The fresh and unbelievably cold air?”

She smiled. “Just for a little while.” Her index finger traced his lips and then touched the tip of his nose. “Please?” She pouted pleadingly in jest and then smiled.

“Very well,” he said as he lifted her legs from his lap and placed them down to the floor.

She hurriedly got up and raced to the back of the house, to the door that led to their little private garden. They dressed for the cold, putting on their coats, gloves and scarves which rested in a closet near the door.

Outside, they walked hand in hand for a while over the soft snow. When they got to a more open space with a reasonable amount of snow, Mary-anne proposed they built snowmen.

“We shall see who builds the best one,” she said with a smile.

“Is that a challenge, dearest?” He smiled. “I have been known to build incredible snowmen, I’ll have you know.”

“Prove it then,” she added still smiling.

They had each been building a snowman for a while when she looked over and saw that his was indeed better. She walked over to help him with his. “It is no use working on an ugly one,” she explained herself. He laughed and put an arm around her, kissing her cheek. “Yours is very charming, love.”

Before long, they had finished the snowman.

“There, we are done. Can we go back inside now?” He asked.

She stood behind him as he admired what they had done, so he did not see she was crafting a snowball she then threw at his backside. “We are not quite done yet” she had said before she threw it at him.

“Mary-anne!” He cried out as he turned to see her arranging yet another snowball in her palm, laughing.

“Did I hurt you, dear?”

“No,” he answered with a small smile.

“I’m very glad,” she said as she threw another one at him.

“Oh you wish to play? We shall play then,” he said as he started to run for her. She ran away, laughing as he chased her with a grin on his face. When he caught her, they fell on the soft, snow-covered ground. She hurried to try and run away again, but he pinned her down. She could not stop laughing.

“Say you are sorry,” he said in jest as he held her down.

“I can kiss you so you feel better,” she said looking up at him and smiling.

He leaned down to touch his lips to hers, and so he did over and over again.

“Christopher?” She said in between kisses, before he planted another one on her lips, this time a long deep one.

“Hummm?” He managed as they kissed.

“I love you.”

He smiled and kissed her again as he still held her down.

“Christopher?”

“Yes, my love?”

“We can go inside now. I’m cold.”

He helped her up, and as they walked back to the house, snow began to fall lightly once more. When they entered the house, she quickly pulled off her coat, gloves and scarf and ran upstairs while he was still taking off his coat.

She rushed into their bedchamber and went straight to the fireplace. He came in behind her and closed the door. She took off her boots and sat on the soft fur rug placed in front of the fire, completely overlooking the pair of high back chairs that sat on the rug, so she could be closer to the fire. He sat on the bed to pull off his boots and then grabbed the fur that adorned the foot of the bed and took it to her. He sat behind her, his legs on either side of hers, and covered both of them with the fur. He then leaned on the chair that sat behind him as he wrapped his arms tight around her.

“Do you wish me to have some water heated for the bathtub?”

“No, I’ll be warm soon enough.”

He sat there holding her, breathing his hot breath into her hair and neck. A snow storm started raging outside and they watched it through the window. It made the day a bit darker.

After a few minutes, she turned to face him, which made him loosen his grip.

“Are you warm?” He asked.

“Yes. Extremely.” She kissed his lips. “So warm in fact I might need to disrobe.” She kissed him again.

“Is that so?” He asked amused as he raised an eyebrow.

“Are you warm?” She asked with another kiss.

“Yes, quite.” One of his knees was folded upward, and his arm rested upon it.

“May I… help you with that?” She said as she began to unbutton his waistcoat.

“Please, do” he said with a smile.

She unbuttoned his waistcoat and pulled it off, tossing it aside. She then began to untie his cravat. He reached under her dress to caress her thighs over her undergarment. She pulled his cravat from his neck and placed it over his eyes, tying it behind his head.

“What is this?” He asked intrigued, not being able to see her anymore.

“Remember I said I had read almost all the books in our library?” She whispered in his ear as she began to slowly unbutton his shirt. “I found one you brought from the Indies.” She kissed his neck.

“Did you?” He smiled slyly. He could not feel her against him anymore, but soon she was at his other ear, nibbling on it.

“Yes. Inhibiting one of your senses is supposed to… heighten the others.” She kissed his neck and undid a few more buttons on his shirt, and then, he could not feel her any longer.

“How very interesting,” he chuckled.

She finished unbuttoning his shirt and pushed it off his body. She proceeded to kissing his neck, then his shoulder, making her way down his chest and stomach. With each kiss his body quivered. She unbuttoned the fall front of his trousers, letting out his manhood. It was already half rigid when she straddled him and rolled her hips on top of it. As she felt him grow, she teased him with kisses on his cheek. He wished to kiss her lips, but she would not let him. She backed off from him and he missed her warmth.

He suddenly felt her lips on his now fully rigid manhood, as her nails grazed his chest lightly. His head lolled back into the seat of the chair as her lips moved around his girth. At times, her tongue caressed his length. Her hands did not leave his chest whilst pleasuring him.

“Oh, Mary-anne,” he grunted and then sucked in air through clenched teeth, trying to master himself, but it was useless.

When he was right on the edge of achieving the height of pleasure, she stopped. She was moving away from him but he managed to grab one of her arms, and he pulled off the improvised blindfold. He pulled her in for a kiss and she smiled.

“You were not supposed to take it off.” She caressed his chest.

“I could not bear it. I am but a man.” He kissed her neck and nibbled on her ear as he slowly undid the buttons on the back of her dress.

“Rip it off” she whispered. “I cannot bear it, it’s taking too long.”

“And ruin your dress?” He smiled into her neck.

“I do not care, I’ll sew the buttons back on later.”

He pulled the dress open and buttons flew all across the wooden floor. She gasped, and then he pulled the dress off over her head, along with her chemise. Her breasts were exposed, but she still wore her petticoat and socks.

“Take them off,” he ordered. His tone excited her, and she laid her back on the floor, her legs pointed at him. She arched her back to pull down her garment, and then pointed her toes to the ceiling to pull them off provocatively, all the while her eyes watching his expression. He watched her with desire burning in his eyes, like the fire crackling behind him. She sat back up to straddle his lap and he licked her neck as he picked the cravat back up. He then tied it over her eyes.

“Is it too tight?”

“No,” she answered.

“Do not take it off”, he whispered in her ear in an ordering tone, turning her to sit on the floor, her back to the chair.

“What happens if I do take it off?” She asked slyly.

“I might have to spank you” he whispered in her other ear.

She grinned as he lifted her up to sit on the chair. “I might need to take it off then.”

He left her sitting in the chair and walked over to the desk they had in a corner of the room.

“Chris?”

“Yes, my love.” His voice was far.

“Where are you? I am getting cold again, I need to feel your warmth.”

“I’m right here,” his voice was now next to her and his hand caressed the inner side of her thigh. His light touch made her quiver in desire.

He had gotten the quill off the desk and now trailed its feather up her body, starting at her sex, passing over her stomach, making circles around her breasts. She quickened and arched her back, holding on to the arms of the chair.

After a while of teasing her with the lightness of the feather, he sat back down on the floor in front of her and pulled her hips forward to the edge of the seat as he lifted her legs to rest over his shoulders. He proceeded to kissing her privates as he so often did, and her grip on the arms of the chair tightened.

She quickened and arched her back often, but bit her lip to prevent her from screaming. She took one hand to her lips and sucked a finger before biting her hand. He watched amused as he continued the deed.

He moved his lips away from her and his fingers took over, rubbing her bud of nerves.

“Do you not enjoy this, my love?”

“Yes” she moaned. “Very much.” Her hips moved as his fingers did, pressing herself against them.

“Then why does it not sound like you enjoy it?”

“It is… the middle of… the day” she said with restraint and in between gasps. “Someone might hear.”

“Nonsense. Tell me how much you enjoy it,” he moved his fingers away to tease her.

“I love it, Chris. Sweet… precious…Chris. My Chris.” Her hand found his head and her fingers began to run through his hair. “Please, don’t stop.” His fingers returned to her. “Please, please, keep going.”

His lips returned to their deed and she moaned, but continued to bite her lip when she thought it was getting too loud. Soon she was on the edge. “Oh, Chris!” She pulled on his hair. “Yes, yes!” And she achieved her height. When her body relaxed, he pulled her down to his lap again, taking off the blindfold. She smiled as he kissed her lips and laid her on the fur, next to the crackling fire. He moved to pull down his trousers and she hurried to help, pushing them down with her feet.

He filled her emptiness as she looked into his hazel-green eyes, made more hazel by the fire, and she caressed his face, smiling. She looked at him so lovingly, he felt a bit self-conscious as he moved inside her.

“You look even more handsome by the fire,” she let out before biting her lower lip as she felt his manhood fill her core again.

“Do I? You look beautiful anywhere.”

She smiled. “Your eyes shine brighter when the flames reflect off them.”

“My eyes shine brighter because I’m looking at you” he said as he thrust slowly.

She caressed his cheek and brushed away his hair, only to have it fall back down again. “I love how you look at me and make me feel as if I were the only woman in the world.”

“To me you are.”

“Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” He let out a small grunt of pleasure, feeling her heat around him.

“Anything. I enjoy hearing your sweet voice. It arouses me.”

“I love you” he gasped, never stopping his movements.

“I love you more” she answered.

“I love your blue eyes. And the smell of your hair. And the taste of your lips.” He touched a finger to her lips and she sucked on it. He groaned before he kissed her. She smiled and took a hand to his chest. “I love your smile.” He put his hand over hers on his chest “And the feel of your smooth skin against mine.” He thrust harder and she bit her lip, her nails tracing their way up his side. “I love how you bite your lip, and how you scratch my back.” She smiled and pressed her nails against his shoulders. Then, she touched his lips, and he took a finger in his mouth, sucking on it. “I love how strong-minded, opinionated you are, and yet how incredibly sweet you are. I love how intelligent you are, and that you love to read as much as I do. I love that you think I am sweet.”

“You are sweet”. She caressed his cheek and let out a loud moan in response to his movements.

“I love that you still blush every time I tell you I love you. And every time I begin to disrobe you” he said in a lower tone. She smiled and blushed bright red. “I love how you tell me you love me and make me feel as if I am the only man you have ever loved.”

“You are! You are, my love. Please believe me” she said with some desperation, cupping his face with both hands and reaching to kiss his lips.

“I do.” He thrust harder. She bit her lip and moaned.

He leaned into her neck and kissed it, and proceeded to purr in her ear “I love the sound of your sweet voice calling my Christian name, My Mary-anne. And I love how you call me Chris in our most intimate moments.”

“Oh, Chris,” she called out, not because he mentioned it, but because her pleasure was building up again.

“I love” he continued to purr in her ear as he thrust harder “Every… single… aspect…of your being. You are… the best… thing… that has ever… happened to me” he said in between heavy breaths. His voice in her ear resonated through her body, making her quiver and her pleasure build up faster. His words made her heart swell up with love, making the whole experience greater. “You are… my all. My everything. You are the love of my life, my sweet Mary-anne” he whispered.

She felt as if she were going to burst. All of her. Her heart, with his words. Her body, with his actions. She felt hot tears touch her eyes as she achieved the height of her pleasure. “Chrissss… I love you.”

As she quickened beneath him, he lost control as well.

As his body relaxed atop hers, his cheek touched hers and he felt her tears. She wished to express just how much she loved him, but could not find the words.

“Are you alright, my angel?”

“I feel wonderful.” She took his hand and kissed it a few times before placing it over her left breast. He felt her heart, still beating fast.

“I love you. I love you. I cannot always find sweet words such as yours to express just how much I do, but please, please know that I do. So very much. I love you. You make me whole. You complete me.”

He smiled as he rubbed his nose on her cheek. He rolled to her side and wiped away the trail the tears left. She passionately kissed his lips and embraced him tightly as the storm still roared outside.


End file.
